


For King and Country

by starhewn



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Prince caspian - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Aslan - Freeform, Background Relationships, Book/Movie: Prince Caspian, Developing Relationship, Deviates From Canon, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Friendship, I keep thinking of random tags I’m v disorganized, I update every Sunday, Narnia, Post-Canon, Post-Prince Caspian, Reader-Insert, Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, when I said slow burn I meant slow burn so buckle up buddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29443647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhewn/pseuds/starhewn
Summary: Caspian watched the two of them with longing. Or maybe sadness. “Not many people have that,” He said, his voice sounding strained.“Sometimes, fate keeps people apart. Even outside of their own will.” I murmured. Caspian turned and looked down at me.“Yes,” His eyes searched my face lingering over my lips for such a brief moment I wasn’t sure if I had seen correctly, “Yes, it does.”
Relationships: Caspian (Narnia)/Reader, Peter Pevensie/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :) I wanted to clear some things up before we get started so I don't have to break the immersion while you're in there. These events take a couple of years after Prince Caspian. There is some canon divergence here, such as-All the Pevensie siblings except Peter went back to the real world when Aslan opened the Door in the Air, but in my AU Aslan doesn't restrict anyone from coming back. Peter felt it was his duty as high king to stay behind and help restore Narnia. Also, Susan/Caspian was never a thing, it was too dry for me to even mention it for spice tbh. Cair Paravel was never left in ruin either, she is still in her fully glory.
> 
> Happy reading!

The Vidalian camp was in turmoil as knights and medics prepared for the final stand out on the battlefield. Shouting and hoof beats shook the ground. An elderly woman slipped into my tent, as silent as the day turns into night. The only thing announcing her presence was the cool wind that whispered through the tent flap.

"Erik, sent me to come get you, Your Grace. They have a horse prepared for you...the Narnian army is advancing quickly." The old woman in the blue veil held her hands clasped together entreating me.

I stared into a mirror checking the straps of my armor by giving them each a firm tug. I met the woman's eyes through the reflection. "You know I can't do that, Una. How would it look like if a member of the royal line just fled?"

Una came to my side, laid a hand on my arm while meeting my eyes in the mirror. "That's just it. We've already lost your father today. Your brother has already retreated so he can be crowned in secret tonight. Please don't let the kingdom mourn more than it already will." Her soft brown eyes pierced mine with a fear and sorrow for what was to come.

I turned and took the woman's hands between my own. "This is my choice. I can't just go home like this...Father isn't here to stop me anyways" Una opened her mouth as if to continue her pleas, but I interjected. "I need you to take that horse prepared for me and ride until I am just a speck in the distance."

Una's eyes glistened and she stroked my cheek gently. I imagine she didn't see a young woman in that moment, only the little girl that hung on her skirts in years passed. The woman exited the tent without a word and into the tumult outside.

She said Erik, my betrothed, sent her, but somehow I know that she would have come either way. She never would have left without trying. After all, she practically raised me since parenting was not a priority for my mother.

Before I could let fear sway my decision to stay, I parted the tent flaps and stepped into the night. The glow of a campfire reflected off the metal of my armor as I began to search for the last rallying point. I passed the medical tent, and inside the nursemaids were lifting gravely-injured soldier's heads and administering a tonic that would bring them into their forever sleep.

The edge of the camp loomed before me and the last of the knights that refused to leave stood resolute facing the ridge where the Narnians would inevitably cross. I slowly moved through the ranks of soldiers to reach the front. I didn't want the legends to say I died on this battlefield hiding behind the bodies of others. As I pushed through, I heard whispers of "That's the princess" "What is she doing out here?" "I'm sure Sir Erik doesn't know about this" From the fairytales I had read, this would be the moment where I gave a grand speech to inspire faith in me and our cause, but fear closed my throat and all I could do was grip the hilt of my sword to keep myself steady.

What felt like hours, but was probably minutes passed while we listened to the noises from the camp slowly fade out until only the groans signaling last breath broke the silence periodically. New noises began to echo through the valley-the pounding of hooves and armor clanking.

My eyes held to the ridge. The glow of the Narnian army's torches slowly started to light up the crest of the hill. Once we could see the tops of their torches, the rest of them followed. Creatures of all kinds marched in no particular pattern and treaded closer and closer.

Not one Vidalian soldier broke rank. What was the point of rushing inevitable death? Might as well wait for it to meet you.

At the head of the Narnian army was a horse as dark as night and atop it was a man with broad shoulders and hair that matched the horse's coat. King Caspian. The torchlight flickered over him, so that each glimpse of his face was brief, even so, I could see his face held no anger or thirst for blood. He was just past what one would consider a boy.

Growing up in Vidalia, I was told of the horrors of the Narnians: The child sacrifices to their cruel gods, evil sorcerers, and constant spilling of blood. They were centric to every scary story told by the bards at feasts. Children were told not to wander into the woods or a minotaur would snatch you. Vidalia didn't have talking beasts and creatures beyond humans, "only dark magic could make a soulless creature have the consciousness of a human" is what my father always said. There was only one exception to this rule in my life-Una. She would whisper stories of spirits of the trees that would dance in the meadows with her when she was a girl, ocean waves that sang songs of the kings and queens of old, and a lion named Aslan that always saved the day. She made me vow that I would never repeat the stories or tell anyone of where she was from, and I never wavered.

The Narnian army stood there facing us silently aside from the occasional huff of a minotaur or the shuffle of feet. I stood beside a soldier that kept shifting his weight from foot to foot as he muttered to himself-

"That man murdered the king. THAT MAN MURDERED THE KING". A wave of anger overcame me. I had heard the news earlier in the day that my father had fallen to the Narnian army, but to see his murderer in the flesh awakened a deep grief in me.

Before I got the idea to do the same, the soldier broke rank and began to rush towards the man on the steed. Not even halfway to him, an arrow breached the Narnian army and burrowed itself into a chink in the unnamed soldier's armor. When the man's body hit the ground, a shudder went through the rest of the men. Our response to that hinged on how I reacted, I knew that much. So, I continued to stand, for how do you compete with being overwhelmed with an army twelve times the size of what was left over?

Instead of leading his army into a slaughter, the king dismounted his horse and began to walk toward us. A dwarf began to accompany him, but he waved him off at the halfway point. As the only person of royal blood left on the field, it was my duty to represent the remains, so I met him there. For a moment, we just stared at each other. I think both of us were surprised by what was before us. I expected a man with glowing red eyes and fangs, and I think he was expecting someone taller.

"What is your name? Are you a corporal?" He asked

I hesitated for a moment trying to decide how to respond. Whether to say yes and hide in the anonymity of it or announce my true name and title.

"I'm the daughter of the king you killed." Like an afterthought I muttered my name after the declaration.

He looked taken aback. "Your Grace, I never seek to spill blood unless all other options have been exhausted, but your father rejected our treaty of peace. You have to understand that surely."

"So, an all out slaughter was called for then? You don't know how many households you have emptied today." I stepped forward a bit. He didn't move. I heard swords unsheathe at the advancement. He held his hand up to signal for a pause without unlocking his eyes from mine.

"It's fairly hard to walk onto a battlefield full of soldiers ready to slice your neck and ask them mid-spar if they would like to abandon their country." His own hands traced the gilded hilt of his own sword as he spoke, "But I will do this, any of your men that want to walk away and vow to never take up arms against Narnia again are free to go wherever they wish".

Could I ask my men to do this? Desertion meant execution in Vidalia, they would have to enter voluntary-exile. "I don't think you know what you're asking for." I responded.

Caspian stepped in even closer and lowered his voice, "Wherever they choose...they can seek asylum in Narnian lands."

What king would offer his enemy asylum?

"I will talk with my men and see what they say." I squared my shoulders ready to turn on my heels.

"I will send an ambassador over to speak with your men, but you are coming with-" Before he could let the sentence fully form, I unsheathed my sword and swung for his head. His blade met mine and the clang of steel rang throughout the valley. I pushed into him and he stumbled. I met his sword with vicious swings each time, but Caspian never swung for the vitals, his blade only sought out my own to parry the attack. This tactic confused me as every fighting scenario I had run through with the swordmaster entailed them at least trying to fight back.

The Vidalian soldiers saw this as a call to action and began charging into the Narnian army. A soldier clipped my shoulder as he ran by causing me to lose my footing. The weight of my armor pulled me to the ground. Surely, this would give Caspian time to land the blow. As my back met the earth and my sword flew out of my grip, I stared into the night sky praying to all the gods for an easy journey into the afterlife. Caspian stood over me with his sword sheathed. The dwarf that previously accompanied him came up with a rope in hand.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way." Caspian said. The dwarf pushed my hands together and wrapped the rope tightly to bind them. Caspian pulled me up and whistled for his steed. The remaining soldiers were still thick in the fight, but slowly they noticed that I was still living. A dead royal is better than a captured one. Stragglers started to pull away to come rally to their princess. Caspian shoved me up onto the horse and climbed up behind me. Kicking the sides of the horse, we began to gallop off. At the top of every gallop, I came up off the saddle just a little bit. I looked behind me for one last glance and saw that peeling through the camp was the cavalry that had previously retreated. Erik, my betrothed, was leading the group on the reconnaissance mission.

Maybe I could go home.

Erik kicked the sides of his horse and began closing the distance between me and him. Caspian turned his head and saw the man pushing closer to us. Caspian leaned in closer to me and was shouting "C'mon boy!" to his sable horse. His chest pressed close into my back and his shouts pierced my ears.

Erik got even closer and was parallel to my capturer and I. He began to reach his hand out to grab me off the horse. Freedom was so close. Out of nowhere peeled a white steed mounted by a man with golden hair. The young man around Caspian's age set into position beside Erik, reared his sword up, and slammed the hilt into Erik's chest pushing him off the horse.

"Erik!" I shrieked. The last sight of him was him lying face down in the grass, not moving. My last hope.

"Peter...thank you" Caspian shouted over the noise. The man named, Peter, nodded his head in acknowledgment with sweat glistening over his brow. He held our rear as we bolted across the battlefield leaping over barricades and trampling over the bodies of both Narnian and Vidalian soldiers alike.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off. There were only a few pursuers in the far distance, but Caspian's friend had proven that even the best rider wasn't hard for him to deal with. I wish Caspian had dealt that killing blow to me. Stories of Narnian torture flooded my mind. Maybe some of father's soldiers hidden in the Narnian lands would get word soon and rescue me. Maybe.

"Peter! Did you send the signal for the Dawn Treader to be ready to sail when we arrive?" Caspian shouted.

"Yes, we'll be on course as soon as we board." Peter held tight to his horse's reigns and kept glancing between the two of us.

So this is how it ends.

Erik had always told me he'd protect me, but I never wanted that protection. It gets exhausting for men telling you how to take care of yourself, but I'd call in a favor today. It's all fluff and a part of the passionate things whispered in dark hallways during a tryst though. He couldn't protect me.

Caspian's horse crested a hill and it overlooked the gulf where a whole armada covered the waters. At the dock, the head ship had the gangway down ready for us to climb on the vessel.

The ship was fearsome. The mast was carved into a dragon with a snarl dragging his lips up and the carving was layered in gold that caught the rays of the sunrise in it.

Are there dragons in Narnia?

Caspian and I hadn't said a word to each other the entire journey. I could tell where his emotions were though. When pursuers got closer, the thump of his heart tapped rapidly on my back, but at the sight of his armada it had slowed to a steady drum beat that vibrated through me. I hope he couldn't read me as I easily as I read him.

Caspian hurried the horse down the hill and rode us onto the ship. Sailors composed of all different creatures began climbing masts and Caspian himself ran to the helm. The wind filled the sails and whipped his linen shirt. How could someone so normal have killed my father? Was the blood speckled on his face father's or some other unfortunate person who also wouldn't go home?

The whole crew cheered as we broke from the formation of ships and began our journey to Narnia.

I didn't know where to go or what to do, so I just stood there with my hands still bound. Caspian passed the duty of steering to a centaur and sauntered towards me. He pulled a blade from his pocket and maintained eye contact as he sliced through my bindings.

"I'm going to hope you aren't a good swimmer.." He said.

"Actually, I've been swimming since I was a girl." I retorted angling my chin up.

"Well, let's just hope the sea dragon doesn't get hungry if you get any bright ideas."

He gestured for me to follow him as he went below deck. Hammocks were strung up from the rafters of the ship and some sailors were sleeping on their off duty time.

Caspian and I wove through the crowded under deck till we came to a door. He opened it to reveal a captain's cabin. It held a small desk with papers strewn out over it and a humble cot with the blankets neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

"This is where you'll be staying the next few days." Caspian said, gesturing to the room.

"Isn't this yours?"

"No, it's yours...for now." He said tilting his head

I walked in and sat down on the cot. He looked everywhere but at me for just a moment as if waiting for something to leap out at him or possibly for me to thank him.

I can spot arrogance a mile away.

"Why am I here? Why didn't you just kill me?" Spilled from my lips before he could leave.

Confusion painted his face almost as if he didn't know himself. "Because I've been you before." He said softly. The door closed behind him gently.

What is that even supposed to mean?

I removed my armor leaving me in a dirty tunic. A dusty mirror hung from the wall revealing the sweaty mess that was leftover from the carnage.

I began to examine the room around me carefully. The porthole was open letting fresh sea breeze break into the room. A letter opener lay on his desk, I slipped it into the pockets of my tunic carefully, just in case.

I spent the whole day in that room staring at the wall just thinking about what I left behind. I had spent years cultivating my knowledge of war and every story I had read romanticized the disaster it truly was. There was no heroism in staring down an army wondering what their next move would be. My first "hero" moment ended in me being disarmed and flat on my back like a turtle flipped on its shell.

Erik

I wonder where he was and what he was thinking. I'm sure when Una came back without me he was furious. He always has had anger issues since he was a boy. No one escaped the flames of his rage, it always caught up somehow, but his family had been loyal to ours for many generations, so my father pledged me to him. We probably could have made it work if he stayed in his corner and I stayed in mine, but for now getting out of this alive was priority number one.

It occurred to me that I hadn't spent a moment out from under someone's hold. Even walks in the forest were monitored by someone in the distance.

Maybe jumping in with the sea dragon isn't a horrible idea. At least it'd be my choice.

Somehow throughout the next few days, I kept the food that appeared at my door three times a day down. The ship roiled and tossed constantly through the choppy waters, which complicated the achievement, but nonetheless I managed.

I always waited to grab my food when either everyone was on deck or asleep, because I just knew that I was the talk of the crew. Feeding their speculations in any way, even if it was just me picking up my food tray, was one piece of satisfaction that I had the power to withhold

On the third night, was the first night I had seen Caspian since the beginning of our journey. I popped out to grab my tray and he was setting his hammock up for the night. I hadn't heard noise below deck for hours, so I assumed the coast was clear, but there he was. The lantern next to him cast a warm glow on the sharp angles of his face. I stood watching him spread the blankets how he wanted them and loosening the strings of his tunic, scared that if I breathed he would see me. As if my thoughts alerted him, his eyes moved to me. Like two deer caught in the woods neither of us said a word. Curiosity filled his eyes as if I were some forest creature Una had talked about.

"Sorry." I said before hurriedly grabbing my food. In the scramble, I most definitely dropped the water in the tin. I'd rather be dehydrated then go retrieve more with him out there.

As the night wore on, I began to regret that decision.

If anyone speaks to me, I'm breaking out into a sprint.

I opened the door quietly and most of the hammocks were full. I crept past them in a tiptoe with my tin in hand. The ship creaked and groaned as it plowed through the waters. I crept up on the deck for the first time in three days. I didn't realize how much a person could miss the moon till now. I stared into its white light and drank it in while walking closer to the side of the ship. I could see a faun at the ship's helm, but he was uninterested in whatever I was doing.

The waves lapped the side of the ship and I remembered what Una said about the ocean singing songs. We had to be in Narnian waters by now, but yet there was no singing. I can't put my finger on why this saddened me, but for the first time since I had left I began to cry. Hot tears chartered paths down my cheeks as I tried to stifle my choppy breathing.

A small thump hit the wood behind me. I whirled around to find a-

"Rat!" I exclaimed at the creature standing on two legs behind me.

"I'm a mouse, but rodent is a good middle ground if you don't find the first one fitting." Said the creature.

I was quite inexperienced with talking animals, so I mustered what I thought was an apology "I'm sorry? I haven't ever met a talking ra-mouse before."

"Well, have you ever tried talking to one before?" The mouse said, hopping up on the railing. I noticed he had a small sword in a scabbard.

"I can't say that I have..."

"I'm Reepicheep, pleased to meet you." I didn't know what to say, still unsure of whether this was due to dehydration or if I was actually carrying on a conversation with a mouse.

"I'm sure this is all very foreign to you, but our king is good...he will treat you well, my new friend." He said attempting to prod me out of my shell

"I hope so. I've never been this far away from home, much less against my will"

"Being far from home, is sometimes the best thing for you. Things aren't always as clear up close." He offered palms open.

I could see what he was trying to say-Maybe you're the bad guy. Instead of responding, I just turned and marched back into my cabin.

Who's a mouse to be giving me life advice anyway?

After a night of fitful rest, I awoke to a knock on my door and there was Caspian.

"We'll be landing soon." In his hands was a dress colored deep purple. He laid it in my hands and just met my eyes. "If you want it."

If that was an olive branch, than it was a cheap one. "Sorry I stole you from your family, here's a dress" Can't say that'll sway me, but fresh clothing did sound nice.

"Alright." I whispered. I closed the door and changed into the garment. It felt like a cloud against my skin cinched in at the waist and tied over my chest. I smoothed my hair down and left the cabin for the second time in a day. This time there was no hiding or running back to the cabin. This was the beginning of the end.

The deck was bustling with people preparing for us to dock. The water was clear as a mirror and the beach that was quickly approaching had white sands. A castle stood atop a mountain reaching into the heavens, and on the docks stood crowds of hundreds or maybe thousands of people cheering for their king's return.

But after years of a mixture of warnings from my people and enticements from Una, there it was-

Narnia


	2. Chapter 2

The gangway banged onto the dock and men and women pushed past each other to embrace their loved ones that were calling their names. Tearful reunions filled the congested dock. I found myself off to the side in the shadow of the mast. Not sure what I was supposed to be doing-no one had rounded me up and paraded me as a prisoner of war...yet. 

Caspian plodded down the gangway and the Narnians rallied themselves to him and roared his name while pushing to get a word in with him. He clasped the hands of his people and accepted their gracious words with a bow of his head.

They love him. I wonder if they would feel the same if he murdered their fathers as well. 

“Hey!” I looked down below where a young woman around my age with waist length blonde curls was gesturing to me. I pretended I didn’t see her for a moment, but then she called me byname. She gave me an encouraging nod and waved her hand to me again, I warily stepped down the gangway keeping my head low.

The golden haired woman pulled me over and whispered “You’re the girl, right?” 

“I-I think so”

“I’ve been waiting to meet you.” She said with a gleam in her eyes, “We’ve got to-”

Out of the corner of my eye, the knight named Peter walked into the close circle. He cast me a glance and then leaned to whisper something in the girl's ear. She swatted him away and hissed “I know who she is. I was the one the Gryffin delivered the message to.” With a nod of her head, she gestured to an older man standing nearby deep in conversation. Peter stiffened up and stepped back. 

The girl began to walk and I followed not sure who else I was supposed to be listening to right now. “I’m not sure what was Caspian’s grand plan was to get you out of here discreetly. Can’t exactly have a Vidalian parading down the streets of Narnia.” She paused and turned to me untying her hooded cloak and handing it to me. “No offense.” 

Not sure if she’s referring to the fact that Vidalians have been at war with Narnia for years or if she’s inferring that Vidalian features are particularly alarming, can’t say that I want to clarify.

My hands fumbled the strings until they were tied, while I followed closely behind her as she wove through the crowd. Peter brushed past me to keep step with her. As the crowd became ever tighter, I watched as his hand reached out and he hooked a finger into a fold of her blue skirt and she leaned right into his hand. The two walked in tandem like that for a moment, until Peter brought his hand back to the hilt of his sword. 

Once we were off the dock, the girl led us to a carriage pulled off in an alleyway. Peter helped her into the carriage first, and as I climbed in, to my surprise he offered his hand for assistance,  
he offered a tight lipped smile, which seemed to be more out of being uncomfortable than politeness. Once I was settled into the darkened carriage, he closed the door and slapped the side twice which caused the carriage to lurch forward. 

The woman sat across from me, eyes narrowed but a small smile still painted her face. 

“This must be different for you.” 

“I guess,” I said letting my eyes flit between her and the stone buildings rattling by us, “What’s your name? I don’t think you mentioned it.”

“Morgan.” She smiled brightly, “Of course I already know yours. You’re the talk of Cair Paravel. I’m kind of jealous actually. I might have to cause a scandal or something soon.” 

Part of me didn’t know if she was joking or not, but deep in my gut she felt like an old friend, if I had been allowed to associate with people my age that is. In Vidalia, Mother only allowed me to have interactions with my tutors, servants, and any members of the court. Friendship is for those who have too much time on their hands is what she always said.

“You would be hard pressed to outdo enemy number one.” I huffed out a small laugh. 

“Don’t underestimate me,” A mischievous look flitted across her eyes, “I know everyone’s pressure points here, so I can ruffle some feathers. Good news is, enemy number one, that I’ve been tasked to get you settled, so you have me to help you navigate everything.” Morgan reached across the aisle and squeezed my hand to reassure me.

“Am I going to be sleeping in the dungeons?” I blurted out fearing what was ahead.

Morgan looked at me blandly for a moment and then snickered and said “I can definitely see where you’d get that, but no. You’ll actually be in the wing I stay in. You’ll be so safe, we’ve arranged a guard to take place outside your room at all times.”

“Do all guests get that benefit or am I unique?”

“To be fair, Caspian did write that you tried to behead him, so I’d suggest just going with it.” 

As we rolled along, Morgan told me which servants to steer clear of and which ones were good at keeping secrets. She told me about the people we passed on the street as if I were an ambassador from friendly lands instead of the enemy.

I pulled the velvet curtains away from the window and watched as we rolled closer to the castle I had only seen oil paintings of.

“Cair Paravel” I whispered. Turrets twisted up into the sky and flags whipped in the wind displaying the Narnian crest. A roar in the distance of people shouting joyfully filled my ears. 

“A parade for the king,” Morgan said, “They adore him. I’ve known him since I was a girl, so you won’t catch me screaming his name unless he’s pushed me to my wit’s end.” She pushed the door to the carriage open and we hopped out. I followed her through narrow pathways till we reached a small courtyard. There were small sword fighting dummies all over and a row of swords were mounted to the wall under the colonnade. The afternoon light caught their silvery surfaces. 

I devoted years of my life to learning the sword. Mother wished for me to not let the sun touch my skin and to spare her the sights of blue bruises spotting my legs. I had never understood why being a woman entailed having to be trained in needlework and the ability to have a full conversation about the sun’s position in the sky. I enjoyed the balls and the finery, but I never wanted someone to be able to take advantage of my lack of skill with a sword. I at least wanted a chance of survival, even if it were slim. I would sneak into the armory at night and learn, but first I had to strengthen my arms to hoist a large sword. Following that, I read the books swordmaster Damian left behind and would mirror every movement the scratchy images portrayed. 

I’ll circle back here.

Morgan brought me to a wing of the castle with heavy wooden doors lining the stone architecture. Two soldiers in heavy armor already stood at attention. They both nodded at Morgan as she pushed the door open, but all I received was a mere glance. 

Morgan swept her arm across the room showing me the space. “Here’s your dungeon.” 

“It’s lovely…” I swept my hand across the linen on the bed. The windows opened out and revealed the giant courtyard at the front of the castle. I leaned out and let the breeze tickle the wisps of hair that fell from my bun. 

Vidalia rained most of the year. My first cross stitch was a big sun, even though I was supposed to be fabricating the family crest. Whenever the sun broke free, I would tiptoe into a part of the garden where Mother couldn’t see me and let my cloak down off of my face and drink in the sun before my guard inevitably found me and I’d shroud myself to the world again. 

Morgan had been standing there unsure what to say, “I’ll leave you to it then.” I craned my head back enough to see the door closing firmly behind her. Muffled laughs bled through the door as she must have said something to the guards about some part of the hour we spent together.

Puddles of cloth sank to the grand as I untied the strings of my cloak and watched as the gates to Cair Paravel opened to the King riding through on his black stallion. He was covered in flower petals from the villagers' revelry. As he canted forward, he turned to Peter and laughter floated up to my perch. The procession moved towards the front steps and I leaned closer watching as Caspian dusted petals off of himself.

“No one interrupt me for at least 4 hours, I’m going to faceplant in my bed.” 

Out of nowhere, he looked up at the window I was leaning on. He had one leg set on the step ahead of him. 

No more running from him. No more hiding. If he’s going to take me away from everything, he was going to have to deal with me, not I with him.

I held his gaze coldly. My hair tossed in the breeze as my stare bored into himl. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head as if I were some apparition and not a very real girl. 

I released myself from the windowsill and found myself on the the poster bed curled into a tight ball. Sounds of life and laughter continued to dance up into my quarters. My dad always made me laugh. He was the only one who cared to bring laughter without ulterior motive. Everyone else tried in hopes that they would gain favor, but Father didn’t ascribe to Mother’s reductive ways, but he wasn’t at the castle enough to bring change to that. My eyes gently closed as I tried to focus on him. Maybe I shouldn’t have thought of him since he was gone, but I did, and I don’t think that would ever change.

I startled awake and the sky outside had become a navy expanse sprinkled with starlight. 

How long had I been sleeping?

No more of this room. I had to hold myself to the promise not to shy away and let Caspian win. No avoiding this. I pulled open the wooden door and two different guards stood watch and seemed startled at me standing there. 

“Hello,” I said sauntering past, “Nice evening isn’t it?” I called behind me. Unintelligible whispers followed me as I rounded the corner. 

Get used to that, boys.

Candlestands illuminated the hallway. Where I was going or what I was going to do was still in question. Cair Paravel seemed as if it was a city in of itself, so getting lost could potentially be a set back, but not one that would hold me back.

In the hallway, a servant faun was hurriedly pacing down the hall. Either he would lead me to servant’s quarters or to where the people were. My mind was made up to follow him and see where the wind took me. I kept a casual pace while keeping him in my sights, so as not to rouse his suspicion. We walked through many hallways, took lefts and rights, and ascended a couple of staircases. Slowly, the tall windows revealed that we were at the castle entrance. The faun slipped through a crack in two 30 foot doors across from the entry. Light spilled out onto the persian rug outside the door. Voices were raised and what sounded like fists pounding on a table. I scooted closer to the door and peered in. Before me was a glorious throne-room. There were windows that stretched from floor to the top of the ceiling which rounded out into a dome decorated with detailed frescos. Golden chandeliers with what looked like hundreds of candles flooded the room with light. In the middle of the room was a round table filled with men and women either sitting or standing, but most of them were thundering in some shape or form.

At the head of that table stood Caspian. He had his hands up trying to defuse the uproar, but no one was listening to him. He lowered his hands and clenched them into fists. Frustration began to boil in his face. 

“Quiet!” He shouted. The room slowly shushed into purely just mutters and whispers, “I don’t know what I have to do to get the lot of you to show respect for who we are and what we’re doing here...Now everyone sit down and listen.”

People lowered themselves into their seats and averted their eyes from the man. Caspian’s chest was rising and falling quickly as anger was slowly unknitting itself from his brow.

“I want to hear your frustrations. Every single one of them, and I will answer them as best I can, but for the love of everything good-one at a time.” At that Caspian plopped down into his seat and put his hand to his hand to his forehead.

For a moment the room stayed silent, and the shuffling of papers and coughing was the only noise echoing through the chamber. An elderly man creaked up from his seat and cleared his throat.

“Archenland has stayed with the Narnian union since we were all freed from the White Witch's rule. We have honored every king and queen that has stood where you are, Your Highness, but I have never seen a king so brazenly act upon an impulse as you have,” The other people seated at the round table nodded their heads, “Capturing a member of the royal family from our most formidable army? This could launch us into all out conflict.”

A breath hitched in my chest. The shouting and chaos was because of me. 

A centaur that had no choice but to stay standing raised her voice, “The Vidalians are directly responsible for the death of so many of our people, and if the thought has even crossed your mind that I would let her kneel before me without a sword at her throat, then you’re more of an simpleton than I had initially thought” The female centaur stood strong with her nostrils flaring as if waiting for a battle to begin. 

Caspian was leaning into his chair, fingers slightly grazing at his mouth as he thought. I held my breath, the air was too quiet, too empty, and I didn’t think they would be too pleased to find the imposter herself eavesdropping.

“I know I have disappointed some of you...All of you. I’ve got a couple of things to cover here. First, we need her. We surprised the Vidalians, they had less than a day to prepare for that battle, so naturally they fell easily, but we all knew going into this that the skirmish was the beginning not the end. The Vidalians have allies too. With her here with us, we have a bargaining point,” He paused to scan the room, “Secondly, I want to make it crystal clear that if anyone decides to get brave and lay a hand on her they won’t have my mercy.” The room raised into a roar once more and Caspian violently pushed his seat back and away from the table and stalked out of the room. 

My whole body felt hot as I stood there, heart rapping against my chest. I was so out of sorts I didn’t realize someone had slipped out of the room. Peter did a double take and then pulled me away from the door.

“You don’t want to be here right now,” He said, checking both ends of the hall. He began to usher me down the hall. His legs were long and sure, but I didn’t quite match him in height which turned my walk into a half run. As we passed a hallway that branched off the main corridor I noticed Morgan was laughing with a young maid until she saw our hurried gate and concern painted on her face while she fell into step with us. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Council meeting gone bad,” Peter responded to her face grim. 

“Are they ever good?” 

Peter continued to lead us through a maze of hallways till we reached a winding stairway. The air grew colder as we ascended. When I reached the top of the stars, it was a small tower filled with telescopes, books, and charts strewn everywhere. 

“The astronomy tower?” Morgan brushed her hand over a large chart stretched across a wooden table. 

“If they decide to go looking for her quarters, I think we’ll be good up here. Sixty percent of them wouldn’t care to take those steps anyway.” The two shared a knowing smile. 

I sat down on a floor cushion, and picked up a graph on parchment. It was a map of the stars marked the date of this month. The rest was scribbles in handwriting I couldn’t make out. Morgan eased herself onto a cushion next to me and leaned over to see what I was reading.

“Caspian’s astrologer passed away about two years ago. No one is allowed to do his charts but him. Telmarines are very set on knowing what the galaxy has to say about the times. On top of that, he’s something of a control freak.”

“I can tell.” I set the paper off to the side and gazed out into the open air arches. Peter pretended to be fumbling around with something off in a corner, but he angled his head toward the two of us.. 

“Do you miss Vidalia?”

“I miss familiarity...I miss my lady’s maid, Una, mostly. She was practically my mother,” I hesitated not sure if Morgan said that just to fill the silences or if she really wanted to know, “Every night before I went to sleep, she’d brush my hair out and say this verse to me-”

As long as the earth holds you  
As long as time binds you  
May joy follow right behind you

“I love that. I’m not sure what it’s like to have something like that. My mother died before I remember, so it’s just been me and my father. He’s...something.”

“What do you mean?”

Peter had turned around and was staring directly at Morgan. 

Morgan’s eyes skipped between Peter and the ground, “Yeah, he’s pretty set on how he wants things to go.” Peter’s jaw clenched as she continued, “I’m pledged to the son of the Duke of Ettinsmoor not my idea…He’s kind, but I don’t see myself caring for him.” The pieces were starting to fall together. Morgan seemed so happy, but she lived in a box in her own ways. Maybe everyone did and I’d been craving a freedom that never existed.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Not sure yet.” Peter’s eyes filled with something I could only describe as grief as he watched the young woman play with her hands to avoid the subject.

The sound of someone pattering up the steps interrupted the heavy atmosphere. Peter ran over to take a look down the staircase, and waved a hand when he realized it was the man of the hour, Caspian.

“Well, here you all are . Avoiding the head hunt?” He didn’t even look at me and began to sort through the papers tossed on what I assume was his main desk. 

“That or maybe we wanted to read your charts and find out all of your secrets.” Morgan raised her eyebrows. 

“I’m afraid you know all of them already.” Caspian said, scrunching up his face. 

“Remember that.” Morgan pushed herself up off the floor and bid her farewell for the night. She didn’t pause for me to come with her, so I just stayed on the cushion examining the room around me. Peter clearly wasn’t one for talking much, but didn’t care to sit in silence, so he wordlessly left the tower too.

My thoughts screamed. This is awkward. Leave. But in remembering my pact to myself, I stayed. 

“Do you generally start fights with your subjects when they raise a concern?”

“You didn’t hear the whole thing.” He still hadn’t bothered to look at me.

“I heard enough. Now, they not only want my head, but they will want yours too,” He didn’t even acknowledge that I had spoken, “You’re more than likely the only thing standing between me and a grave and you’re going to stir up petty fights that will make them even less likely to listen to you if I have a crossbow aimed at my throat? Are you on a suicide mission?”

Caspian walked to the railing overlooking the castle grounds. He gripped the steel as if he were dangling off of it. 

“I have tried to be kind to you, and done my best to not make you feel like a prisoner, is there a script you would like me to follow too?” He angled his head back slightly looking at me through his peripheral.

“I want you to get me out of this alive, and I’m starting to fear that even as king, you’re not going to be able to accomplish that.”

Caspian presented a brave front to his people and his council. The brave and kind King, but it was so clear that under pressure and when surrounded by other people of his position his preparation and diplomacy couldn’t hold up against his fear. . 

“You were afraid.” I broke the silence and brought my thoughts into existence. 

“What?” 

“You almost had an uprising in there, and you ran because you were scared.” 

His back grew stiff.

There’s the ego I’ve been warned about.

He turned on his heel and had a questioning look painted across face, “I’m not sure if you were watching, but I walked.”

“You avoid questions well.” 

“You read the room poorly.” He took a couple of steps closer to me. I reached my hand out gesturing for him to help me up. His hand enclosed over mine and pulled me to my feet. 

He was looking at me curiously as if I was some creature he found in the forest. “I don’t have to read the whole room. Just you.” Before he could provide a smart response I descended the stairs and left him to simmer in the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

“Please cooperate, I'm begging.” Morgan said leaning down on her saddle to whisper into her horse's ear. She huffed and flared her eyes as the mare bucked on her, “I’m gonna cry. I’m gonna cry!” 

I stifled a giggle as the girl managed the horse. Every morning, Morgan had archery practice and I tailed along. Peter was always intent on pushing her into her potential and his newest idea was teaching her to hit the target while on horseback.

Peter was at the end of the field gesturing for her to move farther back before taking her shot. 

“If he makes me move again,” She left the thought untouched and canted back more. I reined in my horse behind hers to get a view of the shot. As a ward of war of the Narnia court, I hadn’t gotten the ok to wield any deadly weapons quiet yet, so I settled for watching Morgan and peaking through the fences in the training courtyard to get a slice of the action.

Morgan strung her bow carefully and positioned the arrowhead to the ground. Her eyes fluttered closed for just a moment, drinking in the crisp morning air. The rough leather of her riding boots dug into the horse’s sides and she was off.. The strings groaned as she pulled them back as far as her arms would stretch and with a thwish the arrow began to whiz towards its target. It peeled through the wind. The closer it came to the target, the arrow began to veer off track. 

“Hey!” The speck that was Peter in the distance cied out. He dropped on the ground on his stomach as the arrow pierced the air where he had been standing.

Morgan whipped around to me with a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. The sparkle of laughter lit up her eyes, “It’s not funny.” She said, trying to keep her face straight.

“It’s funny.” I responded coughing to avoid laughing. Morgan nodded her head concertedly as Peter stalked up to her horse. 

“What was that?” He said heavy breathing and shaking his head.

“This was your idea.” Morgan said, straightening the strap of her quiver.

“No-”

“YOU are the one who said I should try it on horseback-” Morgan and Peter bickered back and forth as we headed back from the fields to the palace, but that was standard for them. When they weren’t sneaking around the palace together, they were having a spat over something inconsequential. In my past week in Narnia, I had already seen Morgan threaten Peter with a fork in the middle of dinner when he told her that he thought Reepicheep walked funny. 

We passed our horses off to the stable hands and made our way into the palace gardens. A small table was set up under the shade of weeping willow and Caspian sat at the head with a small breakfast and a myriad of papers in front of him.

Last time that we spoke had been that night in the astronomy tower, but what was there to say? He might offer me a cursory nod if I crossed him in a hallway, but his initial warmth slipped into indifference and doors stayed closed so I couldn’t peer in. 

“You should pay someone to balance the books for you,” Morgan said sinking down into a chair

“I could employ you. Maybe that would keep you out of trouble.” He said not glancing up and making marks over the pages.

“I’m busy.” She closed her eyes and basked in the sprinkles of sun that dappled through the curtains of leaves that dripped off the ancient tree, “Who else would our tortured prisoner spend time with?” She opened one eye and grinned. 

“Hmmm,” His eyes flitted over to me for a moment. The air between us was stale like a room that sat unopened for years.

I sank into my seat next to Morgan and joined her in the sunbathing, arching my neck back exposing it to the warm light, “I love the sun.” I whispered.

The sound of steady gate came nearer and I opened my eyes to meet Caspian’s contemplative stare. He blinked away the expression and brought his attention to the man stalking up.

“Lord Destrian, have a seat” Caspian rose as the gentleman with curly white hair marched up. Morgan’s eyes snapped open at the name and her posture became rigid and unyielding. 

“Papa, I thought you were going to be in the village this morning?” Her voice took on a higher octave than normal. All mischievousness that generally seasoned her speech had been tucked away for a better time. . 

Her father looked at her first, but his eyes darted to Peter standing behind her chair. His face darkened, “I’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.” The elderly man said. Peter did not lose eye contact with the man as his jaw grew taught and a muscle flickered in his cheek. 

Caspian cleared his throat, “These matters you speak of, I’m assuming that’s why you came to find me?” Lord Destrian broke the stare, but kept his patronizing countenance.

“Yes, The Board of Advisors would like to convene a meeting immediately to discuss The Treaty of Surrender for Vidalia you have drawn up.” 

Hearing my country’s name without expecting it made my stomach fill with dread and a slight tremor took over my hands. Just what would these terms of surrender be? 

“Of course,” Caspian immediately started up the garden path.

“Your Highness! Wait” Caspian paused and turned his head back towards the man, “We will be taking the Vidalian with us. The board wants her present.”

The Vidalian...As if he hasn’t heard my name once in the past week.

Caspian’s eyes squinted a bit before he croaked out, “Understandable.” I fell in step next to him as Lord Destrian led us to the council chamber. 

“The council has put the final touches on your proposal. There’s one amendment we’re interested to see what you think of” The older man said striding ahead the two of us.

“I’m sure we’ll come to some kind of understanding,” Caspian said. His normal relaxed gate was taut and stilted as I walked next to him. 

As we wove through the hallways Caspian and Lord Destrian casually discussed the state of trade in Narnia. The jargon was bizarre and outside of what I had been used to in Vidalia. Then again, women weren’t in trade and government in Vidalia, so I’m not sure what I expected to understand at all.

I guess it’s a good thing I’m not here as a spy. My report would be filled with “is this how you spell it?” 

Lord Destrian opened an iron door to a small room lined with bookshelves and a table encircled with men and women. Some of the faces looked vaguely familiar from the council meeting. Atop the table, stood the mouse from the Dawn Treader. He was gesticulating wildly till he noticed us standing in the doorway. 

“Your Grace,” He said, hopping off the table and stooping into a deep bow, “And you, my new friend, welcome. We are all pleased to have you here.” It’s hard to tell with a mouse what their features are conveying, but his small face held a warmth that made me feel safe despite the fact I was his height six times over. 

Everyone around the table either looked down as I glanced around or met my gaze with steel. The female centaur from the Council meeting was present, her nostrils flared at me as I nodded my head in acknowledgement. I came to the conclusion that I disagreed with Reepicheep’s statement. I don’t think even one of them was pleased that I was there. 

Caspian sat in a high backed chair while Lord Destrian led me to a chair tucked into the corner. . 

Reepicheep hopped onto the table “We have finished our edits on the Treaty of Surrender you drafted,” My heart fluttered. I don’t know what I expected to happen after our defeat on the battlefield, but a part of me hoped that my country would slip into anonymity and Una and the people I cared for would be spared the effects of war. My brother was king now, and he is nothing like Father, but he knows that Vidalian code of honor speaks to letting the kingdom dissolve before taking the knee. Reepicheep continued on, “There are small addendums that you can review on your own, but one thing we did notice, Your Highness, is that while you did mention that you have custody of their princess, there is no proof to that that we can offer.”

“Her betrothed watched her ride off with me. They know where she is.” Caspian said, his brow furrowing.

How did he even know Erik was my betrothed? Did Morgan tell him or did he start asking around?

“Well, yes, but they have no way of knowing if she’s...still living.” Reepicheep said palms open.

“My reputation hasn’t ever been marked with the blood of foreign princesses, but what are you proposing to prove this?” 

Before Reepicheep could answer, the centaur stepped forward and said, “I say we chop off a finger and for every week that passes without agreeing, we take another” Her eyes flitted to my hands held in my lap. Instinctively, I squeezed my hands together as if that would ward off any ill will if anyone took matters into their own hands. 

“Sorin, you know that’s not what we meant” Reepicheep advanced to the edge of the table and somehow managed to look intimidating in front of the muscular centaur, “We were considering sending a lock of her hair or something.” Reepicheep said, turning back to the king.

“You can cut hair off a corpse that won’t work.” Caspian said staring off into the distance considering the situation.

Witnessing people talk about how to prove that they haven’t snuffed you out while in the same room is not a situation I would have thought to find myself in. I wasn’t even sure why I was brought along other than to provide Sorin another reason to have my head.

“We will paint her,” Caspian found my gaze, “Just as she is now. No one can forge the light of life in someone’s eyes unless you are looking right at them.” 

I hated to admit it, but he wasn’t wrong. Every portrait that hung in the Hall of Kings in my kingdom that was painted post-mortem was void of the truth of who the person was.The live paintings captured the stories in their eyes. 

Every member of the council was turned looking at my face as if trying to find that light that Caspian spoke of. 

“Then it’s set.” Reepicheep said smiling on me fondly, “By decree of the king, the royal court of Narnia will commission a painting of the princess, all those in favor say I.” The room paused for a moment and the small room resounded with I’s that ranged from reluctant to pleased. 

Within days, Caspian had commissioned one of the best artists in Narnia to paint my likeness. There had been a lot debate on what I should be wearing when I sat for the painting. 

“She should be drawn in shackles.” One lord offered.

“Let her wear a maiden's dress, we want her to look timid and demure.” A duchess suggested.

“We aren’t going to falsify this portrait. She will dress however she is comfortable.” Caspian concluded. 

Morgan spent hours going through her own wardrobe, leaving her room in disarray. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you couldn’t pull off ninety percent of what I wear,” Morgan said, blowing a long curl away that fell into her face.

Morgan never lied to me and if she did she immediately followed up with, “That was a lie. I would never etc.”. I had been pushed back into my room before by her if she found my bodice to be laced too loosely or if the part of my hair wasn’t straight. Lying to royals to gain favor was the most common practice in court, but Morgan didn’t care about the tender balances royal society dictated. 

In the recesses of my wardrobe, I found a gown where the sleeves fell like waterfalls and would dust the floor, the fabric was heavy, but still managed to elongate my stature and only further remind me that I was no longer a child, but a woman. I refused to be painted as the meek captive imploring for aid through the oils that would contain me. 

When I entered the room where I would sit for the painting, there were white sheets all over the floor to catch the paint that would inevitably cover the floor. A slender young man was sorting through brushes and oils and glanced up as I entered. He pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose to get a better view.

“You must be the princess,” He stood up quickly knocking a cup of brushes off his side table, “Oh, sorry. Yes...um have a seat.” 

I sat in the winged chair and kept my posture straight. I had never been painted before, but the etiquette of it all wasn’t foreign to me. I knew once I married Erik, I would have a portrait made of the two us. Likely with him giving his licensed stare down the bridge of his nose and me standing off to the side with my hands folded. 

A side door opened and Caspian strode through wearing a red linen shirt loosely tied over his chest. He scanned me for a moment before addressing the artist.

“Simeon, thank you for doing this. There’s no other person I trust to do the job and do it well,” He said slapping the man on the back.

The man bowed his head shyly and murmured, “I just paint what I see, Your Grace. No more. No Less.”

What do you see, Simeon? An evil princess waiting for her chance to spring? 

“I’m going to stick around for the process. The Board of Advisors wanted someone present and I figured a day locked up with Sorin wasn’t going to be pleasant for any of us.” He looked at me with a brief twinkle in his eye. Sorin would have definitely been my last choice, although Caspian wasn’t my first. 

“That’s fine.” Simeon said, beginning to mix colors together on his wooden pallet

I kept my posture as straight as I could as Simeon leaned in and out from behind the easel to examine every feature. Sometimes, he’d even come out of his seat and examine me inches from my face to make sure he captured every angle and dimple. 

Caspian kept his eyes on the canvas, whether it was out of not wanting to interact or just pure interest in the process, I couldn’t tell. 

The sun began to leak through the drawn curtains in the room as high noon approached. 

“I know I’m the farthest thing from an artist, but I feel like something is just slightly off. Just barely.” Caspian said as he leaned over the artist’s shoulder. 

Simeone hunched even further over and his ears grew red as the Caspian gestured to a part of the painting I couldn’t see.. 

His subjects don’t just like him. They LIKE him. 

“Light. The sun should touch her face. Just barely.” Caspian threw the brocade curtains open letting the room flood with golden, afternoon light. The rays illuminated the particles of dust floating in the air, but if one suspended their disbelief just enough it could have been fairy dust. Warmth touched my face gently. My eyelashes fluttered against the light.

“I love the sun.” I breathed. 

“I know.” Caspian responded softly. His hands rested in his pockets as he watched the light play across my face. 

“Yes…” I slowly turned my head back to face the artist. His hands went in broad strokes across the canvas as he worked the gold light into the portrait. Sweeping his brash and gentle arcs to accentuate my nose and sharp strokes to outline my jaw. 

The gold light began to turn into pink and fade into blue as the sun set. Simeon sighed and stood from his seat while wiping his hands on a splattered rag. 

“Aside from letting it dry, we’re done.” He shuffled closer to me and gave me his arm. I smiled at the curious fellow and looped my arm through his as he leaded me to the easel or what I imagine for him was an altar of sorts. 

Harshly, I breathed in the nutty smell of the oil, but that breath hitched in my chest at the sight before me. Before me was not a girl, but a woman. Hands that look as if they could wound and heal folded in my lap. My gown pooling below the chair, and hair that was swept up into a braided chignon that highlighted my slender neck. My eyes. My eyes. There was that light Caspian spoke of. A strength had settled into them, but the beautiful foolishness of a girl unattached danced across them. 

“This is me?” I said wanting to reach out and touch it despite it not having dried.

“As I said, I paint what I see.” He smiled shyly.

“It’s beautiful.” Caspian murmured. 

His hand was lightly rubbing his neck as he looked over the piece. This was the most he had looked at me, even if by proxy, since I had arrived.

The young man blushed when I planted a kiss on his cheek in farewell, but his crimson tones became absolutely fiery when Caspian clasped his hand and offered his appreciation. 

I made sure I was the first to leave the room, and my pace so I was ahead of the king. Just as I thought I had escaped, I heard my name echo down the stone corridor..

“You’re probably starving.” He paused clearing his throat.

“I’ll go to the kitchens or something later.” I began to turn back around.

“Eat with me...at my table.” He had his weight pressed into the leg ahead of him as if he was ready to meet in the middle. 

I opened my mouth to object, but my words beat out my reasoning, “I will.” 

Candelabras were scattered across the table, and I watched as beads of wax traveled down thei candles. A servant tended to the hearth adjacent to us. A young woman flitted back and forth to fill our chalices and she’d silently curtsy every time we’d ask for anything or took what she offered.

Her legs must be so strong from bobbing up and down like that

I stifled a giggle at the thought. Caspian looked at me curiously for a moment.

“Thank you for doing that.” He said while taking a knife to the brisket on his plate

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” I raised my eyebrows before taking a drag of wine.

“I suppose you could have worn a grimace the whole time and messed up the outcome. Although, some members of the court would have considered it a more accurate depiction,” Caspian offered.

“I wouldn’t want my betrothed breaking it off cause I had suddenly turned...distasteful, would I?”

“You never speak of him.” Caspian said, laying down his utensils. 

“Me and you haven’t been having many fireside conversations till now.” I straightened up to meet his gaze better past all the pomp and circumstance that covered the table.

“That’s true…” Caspian looked around the room as if hoping a thought would write itself out , “I guess I figured being separated from the man you love would be more of a conversation piece.”

The wine began to make my ears buzz as I leaned into the armrest of my chair, “Who mentioned love? Erik is a spiteful bastard. His father has practically ruled Vidalia in my Father’s absences, so Erik gets what he wants. We aren’t in love.” I swished the wine around in my cup watching the small bubbles pop at the surface.

“I see. That’s...unfortunate. Sometimes this position demands us to view the world in light of duty and duty only,” He put his elbows up on the table and leaned in, “You could always reject the proposal now that your Father is gone…”

His eyes grew wide as if he reaIized he wasn’t just discussing my affairs with a member of the court, but to the woman herself. I looked him up and down for a moment, feigning to respond. It did no good for him to pretend he didn’t kill Father, and it did no good for me to act shocked that he implied it in his conversations. 

“If I don’t marry Erik, then it’ll just be wed to an elderly Lord who will inevitably be unable to give me a child and I’ll have to take up an affair with a member of my personal guard to have an heir..” A reluctant chuckle escaped my lips, “And he’ll leave me widowed before I even become grey.”

“That’s oddly specific.” A smile tickling at the corners of his mouth.

“Was I wrong?”

“Actually, no.” Before he could stop himself, the warmth slipped back into his eyes, “What I’m trying to get at is...You’re free to do what you want to do.”

“So, I could leave Narnia right now. Am I that free?” Liquor always quickened me to outpourings I wasn’t prepared for. My eyes brimmed with tears. “I miss my family. I am not free.”

“I’m sorry.” He leaned back in his chair, “You care about your people and I care about mine. All I want is for this to be over.” My eyes were downcast in my hands, and his gaze was searching to meet mine.

“Ok.” I looked into his eyes, tears spilling over, “What else am I allowed to say?’ 

The door to the candlelit dining room slammed open and Peter was standing there out of breath sweat glistening on his temple.

Caspian pushed his chair back and shot up, “What is it?”. 

“Sorin was found dead outside the city gates.” Caspian began to open his mouth as if to say something, “There was a note pinned to her-Victoria seu Infernum”

“Victory or Hell.” I sank further into my chair, “That’s the Vidalian battle creed.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who is reading this! Whether you have read all the way up to this point in one fell swoop or you have been following along as I update. I appreciate every single one of you. This has been the most dedicated I've stayed to a fanfic, generally I give up after one or two chapters, but I'm seeing this one through to the end. :)
> 
> If you enjoy the story, please drop a kudos or if you plan to follow along feel free to tuck it away in your bookmarks. If you have any thoughts on the story, drop them in the comments!

I slipped into the stables with Morgan, the hoods of our cloaks casting us into shadow. Only two horses remained after the castle guard cleared out the stables in a rush to the front gates. It had taken Morgan dragging me to the stable while convincing me that neither Caspian nor Peter were good at describing events after the fact. 

“We have to go see.” Morgan had said as we collided in the hall while people were rushing out the front door. 

“Caspian said to stay. I’m sure a Vidalian isn’t going to be too welcome right now.” Morgan pulled me off to the side of the hallway as soldiers were sprinting off to prepare to accompany their king.

“Since when have you been afraid of a few beavers and badgers?” She tossed a smirk over her shoulder. 

Maybe that was an oversimplification, for it wasn’t just beavers and badgers. It was minotaurs, fauns, humans, and other species I couldn't name crowded up at the city gates. A roar of voices spoken in different tongues and intensities filled the cramped walkways. 

Morgan reached over and grabbed my reins as I continued to push closer to the crowd..

“No,” She released the reins and gestured to an alleyway, “We’re gonna get a better view.” 

Tucked into the close knit buildings was a stone staircase that led to a rooftop garden with weeping foliage. This brought us closer to the front where we could see the expanse of people crowding toward the iron gates. My eyes scanned over a white sheet just outside the gate, and a set of hooves were just peeking out of it.

Although the woman had been clear about her intentions with me, something in my heart dropped. Aren’t we all trying to feel safe in any way we can? Maybe she was a mother. Maybe she was just a woman that didn’t want things to change. Maybe she just wanted to live, and yet that turned out to be a dream upon the wind. 

In the middle of the crowd, was Caspian standing on top of a wooden crate. Peter stood beside him, eyes roaming the crowd, but his emotions didn’t let through what he was thinking.

Caspian managed to make his voice heard above the crowd, “We all want answers,” and at the timbre of his voice the crowd fell silent, “Sorin has served Narnia for years, and her murderer will be brought to justice. Vidalia has preyed on us for too long. You step on our toes and we chop off your hand.” Anger flooded the King’s face, as he gazed on the corpse of the warrior and diplomat. The crowd cheered in agreement. 

My heart seized at his statement. We had only caught the tail end of his speech, but the thought of what else was said lurked in my mind. This crowd would tear me to shreds if they knew I was here. How long till my presence leaked beyond the courts and into the Narnian lands? What would a group of angry Narnians do to a member of the Vidalian royal family?

“Let the King of Old speak” cried the crowd.

King of old?

Peter looked up, took the hand Caspian offered him, and stepped up onto the crate.

I glanced over at Morgan who was enraptured at the sight of Peter squaring his shoulders preparing to address the crowd, “King?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “I figured people bowing to him and doting on him constantly would raise a question or two, but yes,” Her eyes glittered at her next words, “He’s a king.”

Most of my tutoring was in Vidalian history, but yet my father had always told me “Know your enemy”, so he insisted on my education highlighting some of Narnia’s history. The Kings and Queens of Old was the most passed around story. They were prophesied to save the land from the domain of the White Witch, which they did, but after 15 years of peace they disappeared. No note or suspicious statements preceded their disappearance. Only four pairs of footprints leading into a fir tree. Narnia began the Millennium of War where accusations flew as to who took their rulers, blood only stained Narnian soil further. My tutor had told me of the yearly vigils that were held for the lost kings and queens for the last thousand years as their people prayed for their safe return.

There King Peter stood. Still a youth. He should be enclosed in a tomb surrounded by mourners, but Fate had other plans.

“How is he here? Shouldn’t he be-”

“Dead? Peter has told me that he lived another life as time passed here. That’s all I know.”

“How do you know it’s him and not some imposter?”

“Aslan,” Her eyes twinkled, “Aslan appeared after the Battle of the How and affirmed him,” Like an after thought she tossed me, “I was there.”

Another piece of Narnian lore. The great lion that spoke our world into existence. The guardian. The light-bringer as legends called him. 

Before I could dwell on things further, Peter had begun his speech, “I have pledged myself for better or worse,” His eyes flew to the rooftop and Morgan took a sharp breath, “...to Narnia.. A thousand years ago, the white witch stole from us and we defeated her,” Although, it would be impossible for any of the crowd to be alive during that time, the memory of those times was in their blood. Small sobs echoed through the silence, “I’m going to see this through to the end whether it be my own or Vidalia’s.” 

Men and women knelt before Caspian and the ancient king, promising their lives and their swords. Like a wave had overcome the crowd, heads bowed. A blanket of silence fell over the crowd as they slowly dispersed.

“Let’s get out of here before we get spotted.” Morgan said. We worked our way through back alleys and tight passageways to get back to the castle without being asked too many questions.

Our winding path took us longer than the procession from the front gates. Every horse had been returned to it’s stall except for Caspian’s sable horse. Morgan bid me goodnight while I stayed behind to brush my horse down. Going back to my room only meant more questions that would plague me through the night. 

The boar bristle broach made a gentle swish as I caressed it’s coat over and over beyond what was necessary. The repetition set my mind into a rhythmic trance where finally my thoughts of what had taken place had quieted. Just me and the occasional snort of the horse. 

A harness jingled behind me. I peered over the stall to see Caspian had ridden his horse into the stable. His eyes boomeranged back to me after he realized I wasn’t just a stable hand. 

“You went to the gates, didn’t you?” He said swinging himself off of the horse.

“Yes.” I straightened my back and jutted my chin out slightly. 

He shook his head while leading his horse into its designated stall while a breath of air slowly left his lungs. 

“You have a death wish, Princess.”

“You’re going to have to make up your mind whether you want me alive or dead.” I said throwing the brush to the ground.

“Excuse me?” 

“You wildly swing from threatening violence if someone touches me to making grandiose promises of ending Vidalia. Do you think your people will see me exempt from that?” My eyes were wild and small hairs had escaped my chignon from the night breeze. 

He pushed through his horse’s stall leaning his arm over the wooden barrier between us, “Do you want me to tell them everything is fine?” He pushed through the swinging door and came close, “Cause it’s not.”

“You’ve proved that restraining yourself isn’t your greatest virtue.” I peered into his dark eyes. Normally, they were soft like overturned soil, but they had darkened into blackholes that could consume me with a snap of his fingers.

“Hypocritical of you isn’t it?” He stepped even closer. The heat of his breath on my face. Rage still lined his face, but the maelstrom in his eyes drew me in, like the universe being pulled in by a stellar phenomenon. 

I broke the reverie with a stab and a twist, “Narnia has always attacked first. I’m tired of being the villain” 

Caspian stepped back and his face morphed from his brooding visage to shock, “I...Read a book,” He shoved the swinging stall door open and left into the night. The door continued to creak back and forth.

At the break of dawn, I found myself at the massive, iron doors to the library. I had read the books before, my whole life centered around education, but I would bring lists of references, and Caspian would see. He would see and understand. 

Parchment and ink scented the air around me. A honey badger pattered over to me. The spectacles perched on the end of his nose looked as if a deep breath would tip them over on the floor. 

“Looking for anything in particular?” The creature peered up at me.

Not only can they talk, they can read?

“Do you have anything on the conflicts between Narnia and Vidalia?” I said looking into the rows and rows of bookshelves that extended into the cavernous ceilings.

“Oh, yes. A whole section.” The badger began waddling away. We passed patrons of the courts high up on ladders using a lever and pulley system to bring the books down to their workbenches, but the creak of the ropes and the slap of the badger’s feet on the marble floors were the only noises that pierced the air. 

As we passed the workbenches, its occupants would glance at me and hunch down further into their seat, but this little honey badger paid no attention and kept plodding along leading me to my destination.

In the furthermost corner of the library were the dusty books I needed. 

“If you need any more help, just ring the bell” The badger said gesturing to the bell mounted to the wooden shelves. 

I ran my fingers across the tomes lining the shelves. I was surprised to see authors of both Narnian and Vidalian origin featured. There were scrolls too farther up, but I was only going to scale a ladder if all else failed. My arms ached as I stacked books into them.

Hours passed as I read about the millennium of endless war where Vidalia clashed with Narnia, but our ancient past didn’t concern me. Why hadn’t peace come about yet? If we had exchanged the amount of bloodshed that these books claim, how had we not come to a cease-fire or any kind of agreement? 

I wiped my eyes wearily seeing that the light outside was dying and my stomach rumbled in protest after having been deprived of food the whole day. My thoughts turned to what the cooks had prepared that evening as I exited the section resigned to come back in the morning when a leather bound book decorated in gold filigree caught my eye-Vidalia And Her Thorn

Lugging the book was a chore, but it thunked heavily onto my desk. Dust stirred from it’s pages sending me into a sneezing fit. Upon pulling the book open, I found that the pages were stiff from nonuse, like they would crack if I bent them too harshly. 

I settled into my chair and began to read. The book went back to my great grandfather King Alaric IV. Stories of his vicious nature bled through the pages. My father never knew his grandfather, so his oral history had never been passed to me, but I hadn’t been told of his exploits through my teaching either. His execution of choice was beheadings and the pages proclaimed that he would his enemies' skulls in his castle bedroom. Even his own servants couldn’t escape his consequences.

It sent shivers down my spine, yet this history was still from 60-70 years passed. Things should have evolved by now. 

The next section was on my own grandfather, I have no memories of him as he died before my birth, but father had spoken highly of him saying they were of like mind and he was of “strong constitution.” 

The book detailed that King Amell had grown up in war, some say he had been birthed by King Alaric’s first wife in a tent by the battlefield and that his father planted a kiss of blood on his temple that would foreshadow his hunger for death. The King called any sentient creature that was beyond human an “abomination” and paid special attention to the fauns, centaurs, and other creatures on the battlefield. His gallery was filled with war trophies. Word of mouth had stated that he had no fear of death and would go into the breach with a battle cry that caused the hair on your arms to stand up. The statistics say that he reduced the non-human population in Narnia by 10% through his battles and terror. His life ended suddenly in the middle of the night in his with no explanation. 

My ribcage felt as if it was rattling under the heavy thumps of my heart. I had feared these creatures when I first spotted them on the battlefield, but even just thinking of the badger that led me to this section, he was no threat to me. He treated me like I was another patron. My grandfather would have seen his pelt as a tale of victory, but even still how had Father never bridged this gap and broken these chains. He had always spoken of the “evils” of the Narnian people, but so far cruelty has painted my bloodline, not the land of Narnia.

There was my father’s name. King Zale. Papa. My friend. My protector. The only blood member of my family who ever cared. A hyphen sat next to his name and I shook as I let my eyes graze over the words. “Fate-Bringer”. The text detailed how he took what he had learned from his ancestors and amplified it. The hatred for those different caused him to send in cells of troops just to hunt down magical creatures. King Amell captured handfuls of children over the years that would stay as prisoners of war, but my Father ripped hundreds of children from their mothers arms and placed them in Vidalia to be raised as soldiers that would take up arms in their homeland or to serve the kingdom as he saw fit. My mind flashed to how mother would tell me “Look how many children father saved,” As children flooded our lands. 

“No,” I whispered as hot tears slid down my cheeks and onto the yellowed pages.

This account ended in the year I would have only been five years of age. A small note was scrawled in the margins-the cruelest of them all. My thoughts couldn’t have assembled the thought on it’s own, but my soul screamed in agreement. There was no other way to put it-he was a monster.

I slammed the book shut and began to steadily walk out of the library trying to hide the quick rise and fall of my chest.

I needed release. I needed to scream and rage. How I had longed for my father’s embrace again this whole time, but his hands were coated with the blood of people who only prayed for their own survival and the safety of their children?

My body carried me to the training courtyard, not even sure how I ended up there. Not caring what the courtiers thought or about the weapons ban that had been handed, I grabbed a silver sword off the rack and began to hack at a wooden dummy. Chips of wood flew off the unfortunate block of wood as I funnelled my fury into it.

The clunk of boot echoed behind me. I whirled around and my steel met a sword. 

“You should be glad I’m the one that found you. Not many people are fond of armed Vidalians at the moment.” Caspian said, still hoisting his sword above his head and pressed against men.

Tears had left wet paths down my cheeks like a summer rain had opened up above me. 

“I wish I didn’t know,” I whispered.

His taunting expression melted away and the softness returned, “I know…” He cleared his throat, “I wish it wasn’t this way.” 

No words came to me, I just watched him as tears spilled over while I lowered my sword. 

He whispered my name and said, “You are allowed to grieve him. Grieve all of it loudly,” I had looked away, but he searched for my gaze until he found it, “Both his death and his life.”

A shaky breath exited my lungs. I now knew why Caspian had taken his life and probably took it with pride. It was for the mothers that would spend the rest of their lives watching an empty crib, the families that would turn to tell their loved one something and remember that they are no more, and for the creatures that feared their own extinction. I understood. Finally. 

“You don’t have to associate with me, Caspian. I’m everything your people hate.” Amidst it all his name over my lips felt smooth and sure. I generally avoided calling addressing him as anything other than “You”. 

“I have stood where you stand. Under a cruel guardian, oblivious to what my own people condoned. i had to relearn everything I knew…” He paused and lowered his voice, “I couldn’t leave you behind.” 

The night hung heavy around us except for the moon gracing us with her cool light. Illuminating two souls so different, but wholly the same.

“And I’m grateful,” Was all I could muster.

I turned from him and racked my sword slowly. The touch of a weapon felt wrong, maybe it had never been a desire to feel safe that spurred my desire to learn swordsmanship, maybe it was just my bloodline sowing its destructive seed in me.

Caspian held the door for me, so we could ascend the steps back into the warm castle. 

“We aren’t sending the peace treaty.” I gazed at him below me on the steps.

“What do you mean?” 

“A piece of parchment won’t solve this. We’ve tried before, but we still landed here.” He cleared his throat, “You don’t have to go back. The painting is yours to keep. The Board and I will be convening on a new strategy.” 

“You keep the painting.” The torchlight in the narrow stairwell threw flickering layers of light over Caspian, but before I turned to ascend the stairs, I could just make out a smile.

For the first night since I had come to Narnia, I fell asleep without the thought of returning home haunting me.


	5. Chapter 5

Drills in the courtyard. Sweat stains on his linen shirts. Late nights planning defensive strategy. Caspian was scarce around the castle in the following weeks. Cursory nods and general statements were what mainly filled the meager amount of time we were around each other, but I found myself seeking his presence out-aligning our mealtimes, joining Morgan and him by the fire in the evenings to read before turning in, and any other moment I could steal.

On misty mornings, Morgan and I would wake up at dawn and hide in the treeline to watch the soldiers drill not out of desire, but out of awe. The strength it took to catapult a spear into its target 15 feet away wasn’t something to be understated, and we would watch for hours as men and women and alike showed their prowess.

One particular morning, as we crouched in the bramble of a carpet cypress brush, Morgan huffed loudly.

“What’s wrong with you?” I said as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

“I could be her you know.” She gestured to a female soldier tucking and rolling while releasing arrow after arrow into the canvas target ahead of her. A centaur nearby was throwing objects into the air while the woman would effortlessly puncture them with her weapon.

“You are her. I’ve spent more hours than I can count watching you train.” Morgan’s face remained unchanged, “What’s stopping you from going out there and showing what you can do?”

Morgan rolled her eyes and paused “You are so pretty.” She let the jab sink in before continuing, “Take a look around the field and take a wild guess.”

Lord Destrian walked the borders of the field examining the soldiers' finesse and strength. Surely to report back to the Board of Advisors on how preparation was coming. His eyebrows would raise when a soldier would stumble and give nods of approval when one achieved a great physical feat.

“Forget what he thinks. He’s a politician not a warrior. What does he know?”

“You’re trouble,” She grinned and pushed herself up to her feet, “Get the horses ready. I might need to get out of here _fast_.”

Before I could even ask what she was tossing around in her head, she strode out of our hiding spot right to the weapons rack. Morgan selected a bow and arrow and slid the quiver over her shoulder. In one breath, she notched an arrow onto the bow. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment but snapped open after a couple of deep breaths and she came alive. Her arrow spiraled through the air and buried itself into the nearest target. Again and again, she hit every bulls-eye nearby.

Lord Destrian looked up from his scroll as his daughter released her fury upon the surroundings. Soldiers stopped their drills to watch the maiden prove her mettle. A force of nature,

“Elwin, toss me a couple of flyers.” The lady archer we had been watching tossed two flying targets into two different directions. With ease, Morgan hit one and whipped around and pierced the other. She was a force of nature on the field-born to combat expectations and the best of warriors.

Bells went off in my head as Lord Destrian began to stalk up behind her. I had the reins of the horse in my hand ready to break us out if she came running, but she turned to face him with her back straight and eyes narrowed.

“Morgan,” The man hissed trying to pull her off to the side, “What are you doing out here? We’ve talked about this.” His eyes had the same fire Morgan’s had and their combined fuse was shortening before the explosion.

“You’ve talked _at_ me.” She let the coals in her eyes flicker, “I’ve never agreed to any of it. I’m needed on the battlefield just as much as anyone else.”

Through the hordes of training soldiers, Peter was pushing his way at the sound of her voice. He paused and fiddled with swords on the weapons rack while Morgan and Lord Destrian exchanged poisonous words.

“Go do something with yourself, boy” Lord Destrian spat at Peter realizing his ruse.

Peter slowly turned towards the lord. His hands were clenched.

“I have every right to be here.” Peter planted his feet into the ground cause if they weren’t he would have charged into the old fool, “You’re quite the talker for a man who can’t even hold a sword properly,” His eyes darted over to the windblown girl, “She can do whatever she wants.”

“Your _king of old_ has quite the head on his shoulders.” Lord Destrian tossed at Morgan, “Don’t come crying to me when he gets revealed as the fraud that he is.” The man stomped off as Morgan’s stare bored into his back.

I led the horses out of the bush and came beside Morgan who was shaking with anger.

“You don’t have to defend me.” Morgan looked defeated. There was no burn behind her words, “I can do that myself. All you’re doing is showing him that I need a man to speak for me.”

“I can’t stand when he talks to you like that.” Peter clenched his fists.

“And you think I can?” Morgan swung herself onto her horse, “I know you mean well, Peter. Just let me handle it.

Peter reached up to catch her hand and they held each other’s gaze for a moment before Morgan prompted her horse to gallop off leaving Peter in her dust watching her. It had always been that way for them though. Somehow even as an ancient king, he still found himself feeling like he had found a goddess that constantly slipped from his grip just when he thought he had figured her out.

We rode off to the palace to tend to the humdrum of every day: perusing the castle, ventures to the castle-side beach, and laying on the floors of our rooms sharing stories.

My body swayed gently with the gait of the horse getting lost in the colors of the land that passed by. Time had only gone faster since I learned about Vidalia’s dark past. Narnia had become familiar. The unknowns lessened every day. Although, I was still the secret of the court. As far as Vidalia knew, I was either dead or locked in a dungeon deep in the recesses of Cair Paravel. Maybe the former was the better idea for them to have.

The castle was bustling with servants tittering over something I couldn’t quite make out. Only that “it” was happening tonight.

“What’s everyone so excited about?” I asked Morgan as we descended the steps into the palace kitchens to raid the pantry.

“It’s a rite the Narnian people take part in before war. It’s happening tonight. We plead the deities for favor and strength.”

There were no cathedrals in Cair Paravel. No wise-man that imparted the god’s wishes to Caspian in the mornings. There was no way to keep track of one’s devotion to their faith, and somehow that made it seem that much more real. No score. No goal to attain.

“We do something similar in-'' The name of my own country felt bitter upon my lips, “my country. We gather in our camp and hold a night of prayer the night before the battle..”

“That sounds nice.” Morgan mused pulling out bread and cheese waiting for the head chef, who also happened to be a bear to spot us leaching from her cupboard, “I think you’ll find we do things a little differently here.”

The question hung on my lips, afraid to intrude. “Am I allowed to come?” Morgan raised her eyebrows in surprise, “I don’t want to offend your gods.”

“They won’t be offended.”

“Wait, how do you know that?”

“Because we see them,” She swung herself onto the table. A huff came from the bear stewing over the fire nearby, but Morgan continued on, “They live in our trees and our rivers. They’re everywhere. They show themselves. As long as you have pure intentions, you can come.”

Gods that don’t answer. Prayers spoken through tears. Rituals done for comfort. Where had the truth been hiding all these years?

Dusk fell upon the castle. The candelabras were lit and a hush had settled upon the land. There is a peace about dusk that lulls the world into a trance-like state. A beckoning almost. _Come home. Come home._ No matter where one is, the call goes out, and I was being pulled in.

Morgan had outfitted me in a simple green gown similar to her own. She had told me that everyone dressed in green to honor the land for it was the greatest ally. Before we left my room to join the procession. She lifted a light veil over my head and one over her own.

At the entrance, men, women, and all creatures flooded out silently. Everyone was wearing green attire in varying shades, and veils obscured the identity of those underneath, while the men wore masks carved out of birch bark that bore the flowing main and gentle snout of the country’s most powerful deity, Aslan.

The air was filled with excitement as we walked through the city gates into the land. Since my arrival, I hadn’t been past the barricaded gates. I hadn’t drunk deeply of Narnia’s culture till today.

Soldiers lined the procession uncostumed so as not to leave the people vulnerable to attack. The line of people spanned in front and behind me, barely any sound escaped the people as we marched on.

“Why do we have to hide our faces?” I whispered to Morgan

“It’s more of a symbol than anything. Unity. We _are_ Narnia asking the deities for favor instead of just me asking the gods for favor. It’s just tradition.”

We entered the treeline and fireflies blinked at us as the long trail of Narnians flooded in.

“Processions like this are happening all over the country tonight. It’s the first one that has happened in over a hundred years.” Morgan whispered to me.

We came to clearing in the forest and a break in the canopy of trees allowed the last bits of light to illuminate it like a stage. In the light stood a creature my eyes couldn’t fathom. She was made up entirely of rose petals floating in the air from the curve of her hips to the length of her hair. Beside her stood a more masculine form. A shadow darker than night. Creases in its form made it out to look like he had his arms folded and the ripples of darkness accentuated his muscular form.

“The deities.” A gasp escaped my lips.

“You’ve seen nothing yet.” Even without seeing her face, excitement filled the tone of Morgan’s voice..

The feminine deity’s voice spread over the crowd as if a warm breeze over the ocean had made its way into the forest. She was standing far from me, yet her voice sounded as if she was right next to me. Her petaled lids closed as she said, “Let the night fall.”

The shadow deity raised his hand and turned it into a fist and quenched the last dregs of the day. Starlight pierced the sky and cast a soft glow through the trees.

“We have heard your pleas. Your tears have fallen upon sacred ground. We hear and listen.” The petals that made up the deity’s hands moved up to where her heart would be, “As this ritual has been performed for thousands of years the lifeblood of Narnia along with a chosen representative of the people will present themselves before Aslan, as the remainders pray to the land.”

_The lifeblood of Narnia?_

The shadow deity’s voice boomed, “Step forth, Lifeblood”

Out of the middle of the crowd. Not elevated or especially protected stalked a man. His form was tall and lean, but muscular. As my eyes trailed up to his mask, midnight hair touched his shoulders.

“Is that Caspian?” I whispered to Morgan.

Her veiled form nodded silently.

“The heart of the country beats through you.” The shadow deity said to Caspian, “Every breath that any Narnian has breathed is breathed through you. As tradition states, you will be accompanied by a true Narnian heart-full of valor and truth.”

The shadow nodded to the female deity. The crowd waited with bated breath to see who would be the chosen one. The feminine deity turned into a breeze of petals and floated over the crowd. As she roamed over the crowd, every Narnian she passed over seemed to take in a sharp breath crossing their fingers that she would plant herself in front of them.

The petals floated overhead and paused for longer than she had previously.. Someone in my area would be chosen. Someone would go side by side and make an offering to Aslan with Caspian.

The petals fell slowly and stacked back into the form of a woman.

“Come, child,” I laid a hand on Morgan’s arm, gesturing for her to go.

“It’s not me.” She gently pushed my back, “It’s you.”

“But I’m not a-” I tried to whisper to the deity, but she was already whisking me to the front.

Whispers floated through the crowd as to who I was, if anyone recognized my form or the dress I was wearing, but no conclusion was made through their hushed inquiries.

“We have our lifeblood and lionheart. Go forth and make your offering.” We both stepped forward into the dirt pathway that was before us.

With a wave of the deity’s hand, the trees closed up behind us not even leaving a sliver of a view of the people we had left behind. All noise behind us ceased and we were left in the night.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I said peering up through my veil into the placid mask as if even a carving could smile.

“And reduce our meetings to passings in the hallway? Never.” The warmth of his voice was reassuring as we went into the unknown.

We walked in silence for a while. Dryads peaked out from their trees and waved at us, and water spirits formed and giggled as we walked past creeks. I half-expected the rocks to grow legs and walk away at this point.

“I’ve never seen anything like this. Do these creatures even exist outside of Narnian territory?”

“When deities and spirits of nature go unrecognized, they just go dormant. That happened in some parts of Narnia once the kings and queens of old disappeared.” Caspian rubbed the back of his neck, “There’s no living thing that doesn’t have a soul.”

“I’ve met some people that might prove that theory wrong.” Even I couldn’t tell sometimes whether I was joking or not, but amidst that tense moment, Caspian and I exchanged a small laugh under the cover of darkness.

“Are you sure this isn’t a mistake? I’m not a Narnian...I don’t want to ruin anything.” I paused for a moment in the path to stare up at his concealed face.

“Deities know more than you give them credit for, but they wouldn’t sabotage this,” He gave me a reassuring nod, “You’re supposed to be here.”

“Well, if you say the word I can always run back and pretend to be sick.”

His masked face turned to mine and just shook his head and his shoulders shook with laughter, “I think I’m in need of you tonight.”

The path looked as if it was drawing up short ahead of us. Outside of the treeline stood the mouth of a cave, and in a breath candles of varying sizes illuminated, casting a flickering glow to the entrance of the cave. As we approached the mouth, my veil protested against the wind.

Caspian kneeled before the candles and opened the wicker basket he had been carrying. Inside was an assortment of items-bread, herbs, wine, and oils. Caspian began spreading the herbs and I followed his lead. Our hands brushed each other as we arranged the items neatly. Each time we touched we’d mumble a small sorry as if we were pummeling each other instead of simply touching hands.

Caspian pulled a small piece of parchment that held the ritual instructions out of his trousers and read over it. He paused and seemed to read over it multiple times, “Now, we have to remove each other’s facial coverings,” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

My throat felt like it was coated in sand as I reached my hands out to the carved mask. My fingers grasped the black ribbon tied around the back of his and untied the knot slowly. My fingertips brushed the sides of his stubbled cheeks as I pulled the covering away. His lips were poised as if he were about to tell me something, but he reigned himself back in and furrowed his brow. The air was prickly to the touch-crackling with magic.

Caspian hesitated for a moment before lifting my organza veil. His hands reverently raised the covering. Holy things were taking place, yet I can’t say whether the ritual had anything to do with it.

“Take my hands,” Caspian offered his hands palm up. I laid mine on his. Skin to skin. A small breath escaped my lips at the contact. My eyes could not be peeled from his. It felt like a force greater than ourselves was keeping us still and seated. The cool air from the cave whispered over us as we sat.

“Repeat after me,” His voice came out husky and low, “Aslan hear our prayer.”

Word for word I matched him. Eyes unyielding from his.

_Aslan hear our prayer_

_Let the cry of your people awaken you_

_Let our swords be unforgiving_

_May our armor be unshaken_

_And may our purpose stay true_

As the last verse left my lips, the candles softly went out. Our hands slipped from each other, and our eyes listed over to the cave once more expectant. The hairs on my arm stood up and the ground was thrumming with energy.

A voice. _The_ voice. The one that stories spoke of. Like a current of honey and the boldness of steel poured out of the cave, “Son of Adam. Daughter of Eve. My blessing goes with you.” My whole body was frozen in place. A pause came after the voice and a roar pierced the air. As if the lion’s face was in front of our own, a mighty wind came from the cave poured over us.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours, but we sat there silently, in shock, fear, or excitement. Neither of us could tell which. Whatever had just happened was beyond what words could express

Caspian helped me to my feet and we began the trek back to the grove. I kept looking up at him and shock still lined his face.

“Are you alright?” He kept walking for a moment before realizing I had stopped in the path.

“I’m not ready to lose this,”

“Lose what?”  
  


“Everything.” He walked closer to me and his eyes trailed up to the stars, “I can’t fail. This will all go away.” He motioned to the landscape around us, the subtle sound of nighttime singing around us, “My people. Their traditions. Their home”

“Who says you’re going to fail?” I tentatively said.

“War does. It’s unforgiving. It knows no status or rank. Only bloodshed.”

“You’ve won battles before. Surely this one won’t be the last.”

“That’s just prayer...but I hope you’ll pray it for me.” Caspian searched my eyes for any response. Any assent to his words.

I had spent hours at camp praying for my father’s safe return as a little girl, and my skin still crawled at what I prayed for, but maybe I could try again-pay penance by pleading for this man's safety. Maybe in whatever lies after death, there will be provision for me if appeal to the heavens on his behalf. Yes, for him I could pray again.

As we reentered the grove, the solemn ritual we had left behind had turned joyous. All veils and masks had been removed and flutes and harps had been pulled out for the revelry. Offerings had been laid in front of trees and dryads and lesser deities walked among the people partaking in the occasion.

I peeled away from Caspian when I saw Morgan dancing in a circle with a group of dryads. I blended in with the frolicking and lost myself in it, getting asked to dance by every man there now that I bore the title of “Lionheart” for the night. Sometimes out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn that Caspian was watching. Wine can blur the lines of reality, but no one comes close to looking like him. It had to be him.

I relished the anonymity that was still holding on by a thread. I was just a very lucky “Narnian” girl for the night. Young women crowded around me asking what I saw. Asking what being close to the king felt like. Questions upon questions that I answered, grateful to be talking and laughing regardless of the subject matter or what I had to conceal. But even still, the stench of war still hung heavy over everyone. Occasionally, a reveler would pause and the reality would strike them in the face and the smile would wipe right off their face until they were called into another dance.

I let myself go that night. Getting lost in the intricate routines until Morgan and I were lying on the ground exhausted and laughing. The soft grass tickled our backs as we giggled at the couples peeling off into the darkness to pleasure in each other.

“We better head back to the castle before that faun decides to make his move,” Morgan gestured to the cocky creature that had had his eyes on me all night and had found the silliest of reasons to start a conversation with me.

“At this point, he might be my best option,” I snorted.

“Be honest with yourself. You could at least bag a nice minotaur.” We strolled out of the forest discussing all the things we had seen and taken part in that evening.

My arms swung at my side, but despite there not being a soul around, I felt the brush of fingers against my hand. I whipped around and no one was to be seen, but in my hands, a folded piece of paper was tucked into my palm.

“What is it?” Morgan said watching me scan the treeline bewildered.

“Oh, it’s nothing”

Upon arriving at the castle, I hastened up to my room clutching the parchment. I bid my goodnight to the guards outside my room and deadbolted my door. My hands shook as I lit a candle by my bedside.

I unfolded the piece of paper slowly, not sure what to expect.

_My dear girl,_

_My prayers have been with you since you have disappeared. I pray for your health and well-being. There is so much I have wished to tell you over the years, but now you are in my home country, so I’m sure most of my story has become clear. Search your heart for what you know to be true. Since the battle, your brother, Alexander, has been crowned, but no sooner had the crown touched his head, did he fall ill, and now he is completely bed-ridden. Before his illness, he signed a document appointing Erik as his regent. I cannot say too much of what I think in the case this message gets intercepted. Times have grown darker in Vidalia. He is drafting every able-bodied individual to serve in his army to breach Narnian shores. Don’t come home. And always remember little one-As long as the earth holds you. As long as time binds you. May joy follow right behind you._

All my love,

Your old friend

_Una._

I sank to the ground holding her letter close to my chest. Her familiar script sent a shock of loneliness through my heart. Despite the care I had received here, my heart longed to hear her soothing voice again. Is she safe? What had she risked to get this message to me?

I reread the letter over and over to absorb every bit of information she had given me. My brother was a strong man, illness never overcame him beyond a day or two in bed, much less weeks. This was not an update, but a warning.

How the tables had turned. In all honesty, they had been turned for a while, I just couldn’t see it. Una was a captive. Una had been a captive most of her life. A victim of my family’s cruelty and I was the free one. I stood on the land where she should have grown up and lived out her days on.

Vidalia kept stealing from me. My childhood. My family. My freedom. One thing my country couldn't steal was my decision to be its newest enemy.


	6. Chapter 6

The cold of the stone walls pressed against my cheek as I leaned in to listen to the conversation through rough walls. Morgan was across from me in a similar position. In her hand was a loose stone from the wall itself, which opened a small crevice in the wall where we could see and hear everything taking place.

The room in question was the Advisory Room. A hushed conversation was taking place between Caspian and the ambassador of Archenland. When I took my turn peering through the hole in the wall, I saw the ambassador’s long, grey beard bobbing as he spoke in a hush to the king.

“You’re going to have to make an effort to rally the outer lands to ride with you into battle again.” Caspian’s back was turned to the man as he stared out a window, “Although our losses were small in comparison to the Vidalian ranks, they are still fresh. Two months is hardly enough time to prepare for another blood entanglement.”

Caspian turned around and leaned into the windowsill, “How do you suggest we go about this, Theodric? I am out on the field every day preparing my own men. We can’t waste a day, much less weeks, of valuable training time.”

“You have generals for that, Your Highness. War isn’t a one-man operation.”

“A king who delegates is one who degenerates...At least that’s what my uncle always told me.” A ghost of time’s past flitted past Caspian’s eyes.

“Your uncle held a throne for less than a month. His advice isn’t one to store in the archives,” The old man laid a hand on his shoulder as he could see the man, the boy, retreating into a dark memory, “ _You_ are the king. If you are looking for my advice, I would take the cavalry you plan to ride with and make a tour throughout the outer lands. Show them the strength that will be standing beside them.”

“You’ve never steered me wrong, Theodric. I just fear that they are tired of war just as we are. What makes this war any different than the one we have been facing with Vidalia for hundreds of years?”

My heart knocked against my chest faster and faster. An idea began to bloom in my mind. Before I could even formulate the idea fully, I stood and dusted my skirt off.

“Where are you going? It’s just getting good.” Morgan hissed.

“I’m going in.”

“In?” Morgan arched an eyebrow.

“In.” I gathered my skirts and made for the door.

I knocked firmly on the door and Caspian opened it bewildered at my presence. Since my first sit-in at a board meeting, I had avoided entering any room that held a Narnian politician, but this moment called for it.

“May I come in?” The question was simply a formality seeing as I pushed past him before I received an answer.

The ambassador eyed me warily as I gazed around the room.

“I couldn’t help but overhear-”

“Couldn’t help?” Caspian’s eyes immediately went to the hole in the wall where a set of green eyes promptly ducked away with a mumbled curse. The scrape of stone against stone filled the room as Morgan shoved the brick back into its spot. Moments later, she entered the room as if nothing had happened.

“The details are grey on that one.” I said glancing at Morgan, “But I have a proposition.”

“Oh?” Caspian’s eyebrows raised.

“You need to take me with you on the tour.”

“No.” Caspian’s face grew grim as his arms immediately crossed over his chest.

“I’m not asking to be taken on a pleasure trip.” My eyes were brazen at his defiance, “Can you imagine what it would say to your people that a Vidalian royal has allied themselves with you?”

“I’m going to assume you haven’t considered that things might not translate so easily to their courts? I can’t show up unannounced with an enemy of Narnia in my company.”

This olive branch was shriveling quickly, “You act as if I will be presenting myself as your mistress and not an ally.”

“Heavens.” Theodric sputtered, wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief, while Morgan’s eyes widened.

Caspian’s eyes fluttered for a moment astounded, but before he could retort, I pulled out a worn piece of parchment from my skirts, and handed it to him, “My lady-in-waiting sent me this message a week ago...I wasn’t sure if I should share it.”

Caspian carefully opened the letter, his eyes scanning the words, “How do you know that she isn’t loyal to the Vidalian court?”

Breathing deeply, I let the damned admission be set in stone, “She is a Narnian. Stolen as a child and put into service of the court.”

“I have to interject, Your Grace. Our allies might be surprised to find a Vidalian in your ranks, that is a given, but I have to agree...a defecting Vidalian reveals that there is a chink in their armor. Their hope in a victory may yet be restored.” The old ambassador offered.

Caspian raised his hands in defeat, “You will accompany me, but you will be chaperoned at all times. There is no room for conflict on this tour.”

“I will be conflict-free.”

“We’ll see,” Caspian said with a small grin.

…

The carriage rattled along as we headed to our first destination of Ettinsmoor. Consequently, the home of Morgan’s betrothed. Her head was leaned against the padded velvet sides of the carriage as she watched the landscape flee-past. Her normal, steady flow of words had trickled down to the occasional mumbled comment.

Peter was especially alert. I found that his steed stayed in pace with the carriage most of the trip even though few words had been exchanged between the two.

On the first night of the trip, sobs had trailed from Morgan’s tent. And no sooner had they started did Peter slip into her tent. I could just hear their exchange due to her tent being situated next to mine.

“We’ll figure it out. Your fate isn’t sealed yet.”

“I can’t pretend to love him, Peter. There’s no way.”

“Then don’t. Don’t pretend. Tell him you are promised to me.” The pleading in Peter’s voice bled over to me.

Slowly, to avoid making any noise, I sat up in my cot to hear them better.

“During a time of war? While we are trying to _secure_ their alliance? Are you daft?” The sound of Morgan’s cot creaking made me believe she must have rolled over and turned away from him.

“You always ask me what we’re gonna do, but won’t accept the solutions I give you.”

“Your solutions lack logic. They are pure fantasy. This isn’t a storybook.” The tearfulness had escaped Morgan’s voice and had turned firm.

The sound of Peter’s boots trekking back to the opening of her tent reached my ears, “I want you, Morgan. Every bit, but if you don’t stand up to your father and your betrothed, then it won’t work.”

“My father would never forgive me, Peter. You _know_ he’s all I have.” The emotion slipped back into her words. She had told me her story one late night by the fire of how she held her mother’s hand as she slipped from this world into the next when she was just a girl. Her father had carried her through the years after, trying to teach her everything her mother never had the chance to.

“I would never try to come between you and your father.” While his words were sincere, a rigidness tinged them. It was no secret around Cair Paravel that Morgan’s father would see Peter cast outside the city gates in shame in a heartbeat. Peter’s re-entry into Narnia was heralded by most Narnians as a blessing, but there were outliers that believe he and his siblings to have been imposters posing as the kings and queens of old for ulterior motives, and Lord Destrian was one of them.

“Yet everything you ask of me requires me to.” Silence followed her statement, and the rustle of a tent flap signaled the end of their conversation.

Ever since that night, no words had been exchanged between the two, but Peter stayed resolute, riding beside the carriage watching over her, opening the carriage door when we came to a stop, although she’d end up going out the other side, and angling himself in the path of the sunlight when she closed her eyes to rest.

When we rolled up to the estate of the Duke of Ettinsmoor Peter peeled away from his watch to lead the caravan with Caspian. Our carriage came to a halt with a jolt. Morgan was wringing her hands. Due to the special occasion, her hair was done in intricate braids that twisted into an elegant bun and dressed in a satin gown that brought out the seafoam green in her eyes.

Caspian had advised her to dress me as plainly as possibly-hair down to look younger and more naive and a dress like one I would have worn as a young girl. Nothing intimidating. Nothing to fear.

The crunch of footsteps came closer and Caspian’s voice rang out, “I have brought someone with me that you might be surprised to meet.” The carriage door opened and Caspian offered me his hand. As I exited, the stone walls of the estate spanned above me, and lined in front of the entrance was the Duke’s entire household from his family down to the servants and stablehands.

“A pleasure I’m sure,” Said a rosy-faced older gentleman.

_This must be Duke Geffrey._

“May I introduce...” Caspian paused for a moment looking into my eyes for what seemed to be assurance, “The Princess of Vidalia.” Caspian went on to give my full title and name, but his words were overtaken by collective gasps and whispers of the Duke’s household.

The sunny dispositioned man clouded up and his eyes burned with rage, “How dare you bring this woman onto my lands? Her entire bloodline is a disease to Narnia.” My heart dropped into my stomach at the words. In my heart, I had known I wouldn’t be greeted with applause, but hearing a harsh review in person plummeted my hopes.

At the coarse words, Caspian’s back stiffened and he angled his body in front of mine, “Calm yourself,” His intonation sounded more like a threat than a request, “She comes in peace. She is my guest.”

The man sputtered before letting out a confused sound, “You have come to the wrong home expecting warmth to be given the enemy.”

“She isn’t an enemy. She has allied herself with Narnia.” Caspian’s hands were outstretched looking for any face that looked as if they understood.

The duke stood stricken in silence. Caspian still stood in front of me, but I brushed past him in full view of the crowd, so they could see me unhidden.

“I want to help you win.” Was all that I could croak out. I glanced back at Caspian and his eyes were locked into mine, anxiety dug lines in his forehead. No sweeping statements of fealty or inspiring speeches given on horseback, just the truth.

The duke eyed me warily, but some of the fear had dissipated in his eyes. He snapped for a servant to come forward, “See that everyone is settled.” The servant nodded and waited as our party dismounted their horses, left their carriages, and headed towards the entrance.

“Are you ok?” Caspian said without even looking at me.

I turned my head the other direction blending into his deception that we weren’t even conversing, “A little shaken, but fine.”

“If anyone bothers you, tell me,” He quit the ruse and looked right at me, “Stay close to Morgan. I think she needs you just as much as you need her right now.” Caspian disappeared into the entrance of the estate likely to smooth things over with the Duke.

Morgan was off to the side speaking with a copper-haired young man. His shoulders were broad and he towered over her, but he leaned in, and every word she spoke he ate as if she were feeding it right to him, but her face was pale and her smile did not reach her eyes.

Behind me, Peter muttered something about “seeing to the horses,” even though a stablehand would deign to let _the_ King of Old handle his own harnesses.

I came up behind Morgan and nudged her arm to alert her of my presence. She reached her hand behind her back and grasped mine tightly, knuckles turning white.

My reputation was already questionable, so I let myself be the one to disturb their conversation, “I’m sorry to interrupt the two of you, but I’m feeling tired from the road. I think I need to steal her away.”

“I’ll see you later, Morgan?” For such a large man his countenance spoke to hesitance and a lack of confidence. Normally, I’d say opposites attract, but Morgan had no respect for a man who couldn’t even speak his mind.

Caspian ensured that Morgan and I stayed in the same quarters to keep unwanted visitors away from _both_ of us.

A dinner had been planned for the evening, which Morgan had caught wind that it was to be a crystal dinnerware evening, which meant formal down to the slippers.

Morgan flitted back and forth across the room keeping herself busy, not speaking of her betrothed, Doran, or “him” as she liked to call the man.

I tore through the dresses in my luggage trying to find something suitable for the evening, “I’m not sure I have any dresses that fall into the _young maiden_ category.”

“Well, they’re plenty afraid of you. Caspian can toss his ideas on your appearance. If I have to wear a corset, so do you.” Morgan set to styling my hair into a bun and let me color my lips with her powders. As I applied the color to my face, Morgan, in the reflection of the mirror, pulled a circlet out of her trunk.

“What’s this for? I don’t know if a presentation of power is going to go over well at the moment,” I eyed the gold coronet with filigree leaves and flowers lining the band.

“I don’t want you to forget who you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t let anyone erase you. That’s what I’m trying to say,” She was saying it as much for me as she was for herself. Bowing my head, she gently laid the coronet over the sweeping coiffure she had put my hair into, and I rose as if I had been crowned as a queen, ready to take on the court for the first time.

“Morgan,” She was halfway out the door when I stopped her, “Thank you...for letting me still be me.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else,” She gave me a warm smile. The girl had stuck by my side since the moment I stepped off the Dawn Treader, and in this moment I could see into the future that we would be relying on each other even when our hair had turned grey.

When we entered the dining hall, the long table was filled with men and women seated in front of platters weighed down by food. Peter spotted Morgan’s entrance and stood in tandem with Doran. The king of old’s eyes traveled all over Morgan as if he were seeing her for the first time, but his gaze trailed over to the other man. He let his eyes shift to the ground while slowly lowering himself back into his seat. Morgan floated over to Doran with a forced smile on her face. Peter settled for stolen glances from Morgan, but it didn’t quench the pain that seared his visage.

My eyes traveled around the table looking for my seat, I half expected it would be a seat facing the corner until Caspian appeared at my side. Dressed in a coat of deep red and gold buttons. Consequently, my gown and his attire matched, but it appeared as an image of unity even if unintentional. Vidalia and Narnia coming together to end the bloodshed. Once and for all.

His eyes immediately went to the circlet on my head, “It suits you,” Without disturbing our gaze he offered his arm. Slowly, I looped my arm through his as he led me to the head of the table where two open seats sat next to the Duke.

The duke was blustering about an encounter on the battlefield from when he was young, as Caspian pulled out my chair. The head of the table went silent.

“By all means continue,” Caspian said as he placed his napkin in his lap.

The man narrowed his eyes as I peered over the top of my cup, drinking deeply from the wine.

“It’s not poisoned if you were wondering,” Geffrey said.

“That was actually my next question.” Mirth danced across my face, and a bit of color returned to the Duke’s face at the ease of our interaction.

“You’re quick, girl. I can’t tell if it comforts me or frightens me.” Geffrey said soaking his broad in the sauce coating his plate, “But let’s cut the niceties. Why would you want to help a sorry bastard like me?” I could tell underneath his bluster he was kind, and his eyes had lines that revealed the years of happiness his household had danced in.

“I’m tired of loss.” The wine turned sound in my mouth as I knew that loss had haunted my family’s sword for ages, “Even before His Royal Highness, took me into his care, I saw the backs of the ones I love more than I saw their faces, due to the war. War robs you of more than life.”

“True. True...I assume you plan to ascend to the throne if this war is won?” The other guests of Geffrey’s table had already lost interest in the conversation when they found that there would be no fist-fighting, so a little bubble had formed around Caspian, the Duke, and I.

For the first time, I realized that I hadn’t even thought about what I would do after. Caspian only housed me at Cair Paravel due to the war. I wasn’t an official member of the court, only a chess piece that could be knocked off the board the moment victory was achieved, sent to a cottage in the Narnian wilderness to live out my days.

“Vidalia isn’t in my future, but I can’t say what comes after the war yet. We aren’t even sure if there’s an after as of now.

“That’s why we need you and your men.” Caspian chimed in.

“You know as well as I do that Ettinsmoor has always been faithful to the Crown. I just fear that you may have taken on a beast you’re not ready to slay.” Geffrey said leaning in.

“What do you mean?” Caspian’s brow knitted together.

“There are whispers. Talk. Gossip. Whatever you wish to call it. Talk of Vidalia pulling its allies together for a final stand,” Geffrey leaned in closer at this point whispering in Caspian’s ear, “They want us wiped off the map. No more political skirmishes. No negotiations. Just destruction.”

Caspian looked around the room as if an answer would be behind the drapery, “Who is feeding you this information? We have heard nothing of the sort in Cair Paravel.”

“You know me, Cassy,” Caspian leaned away from the man at the nickname, “ I have my feelers out in the world.” The man guffawed and took a drag from his wine. His sensibilities were tinged by the liquor and Caspian sighed knowing that that was where the information stopped.

The dinner went on into the night and I once again had to pull Morgan from Doran’s clutches as he would have kept her up into the wee hours of the morning. Caspian and the Duke retreated to the study to discuss matters of war. The Duke still swayed a little bit from the copious amount of wine he downed during dinner, but Caspian was the face of a diplomat and interacted as if his ally was perfectly clear-minded.

Morgan and I lay in our respective beds staring at the cavernous ceiling. The balcony doors were opened just a crack letting in air that set the sheer curtains into a dance.

Morgan whispered my name to get my attention, “Peter asked me to come to see him in the gardens tonight,” Morgan said.

“Are you going to meet him?” I rolled over onto my side to face her bed.

“Yeah. I just need to see him,” Morgan let out a long sigh, “This has been hard.”

“I’m sure it has,” I whispered. I had nothing to say to that. I would turn anyone who came looking for her away from the door, and not interfere with one of the few choices she still had room to make. The day would come that she would walk these halls as the Duchess of Ettinsmoor dripping in wealth, married to a man that would care for her, but not one that made her heart feel at home.

My own betrothal was never much conflict within my home. After all, I had never been presented with a better option. Erik and I had known each other since we were children. He was handsome, paid attention to me, and a match that my mother was confident in. Everything one needs? Not quite, but he was there. He would whisper things in my ear that lured me into his grasp. His hands knew places of my body no one else had seen before, but despite it all, my mind no longer strays to him in the middle of the night. Two broken people in a broken kingdom taking comfort in each other. That was the extent of it. Looking at how our paths had diverged since only highlighted that we would have been one of many unhappy products of betrothal.

Morgan had slipped out of the room while I drifted into a light sleep. A light tapping on the door jolted me out of the twilight I floated in. Cautiously, I opened the door swathed in the shadows. Doran stood there looking up and down the hallway for any sign of prying eyes.

“Can you ask Morgan to come to the door?” He peered past me to the empty bed.

“She went to the…” I wracked my brain for where I could redirect him, “to the kitchens. She was hungry.”

His face was painted with confusion, “I actually just came from the kitchen. That’s odd. I was going to ask her to take a midnight stroll with me, but I guess I’ll have to find her first.” Again, he peered over my shoulder to the bare bed, “Goodnight.” He surveyed my face for any sign of dishonesty, turned on his heel, and went down the hall. As soon as he rounded a corner, I slammed the door and leaned against it.

_I’ve got to find Morgan and warn her._

I pulled on a pair of riding pants and tucked my nightgown into the waist, and busted out of the room. I knew I looked disheveled while stalking down the low-lit hallways. So far, the hallways were bare save the portraits of previous dukes and duchesses peering out at me from their painted eyes. As I rounded a corner, I slammed into someone, keeping my head low I mumbled out “Sorry,” and kept walking.

“Hey,” I felt a hand wrap gently around my wrist, “Are you alright?” I turned to find that the one I had careened into was Caspian. He must have been returning to his rooms after spending hours in the sitting room with Duke Geffrey corralling the man into discussing important matters.

“I’m fine.” I was out of breath and wild-eyed, “Morgan won’t be though if I don’t find her.”

Caspian looked puzzled and stepped closer.

“Doran’s looking for her and she’s out in the gardens with Peter.”

Caspian mumbled a curse and fell into step with me, “I’m coming with you. I’m not gonna let this get back to her father,” He glanced over at me as we took a corner, “He’s not the most reasonable man if you haven’t been able to tell.”

“I’m not the most perceptive, but I caught on fairly quickly.” Despite the direness of the situation, a small laugh escaped my lips. If Doran caught Morgan with another man, that could cause the Duke to rethink just how many of his men he would entrust to Caspian’s rank. Morgan had told me of how Caspian had always supported their union, and how had even offered to give his formal blessing on a betrothal between Peter and herself, but it still boiled down to her desiring to have both Peter and her father at her side. An ultimatum no woman should have to decide upon.

Servants gave the two of us strange looks walking down the hallway. A king dressed in his finest and I, with a messy braid and nightgown hastily shoved into my pants would probably cause some discussion down in the servant’s quarters that evening.

The cool, summer air was crisp as Caspian and I exited the estate and made our way into the gardens. Geffrey prided himself on his curated foliage. He had a hedge maze that climbed ten feet tall that was not the best option at the moment but was our only pathway to wherever Morgan and Peter were tucked away.

Neither of us said a word as we wove through the hedges. Caspian occasionally threw a look behind him to make sure I was in step with him and I would nod my head to signal him to keep going. My ears were open to any sound of Peter or Morgan’s voices...or Doran’s.

“I hope you know your way through this thing,” I said.

“I’ve taken a turn or two through it over the years.”

The hedges parted to reveal a small creek that ran through the back of the estate. At the bank of the creek, Morgan and Peter sat in the dewey grass whispering to each other. Peter had draped his coat over her shoulders and their hands were entwined on Peter’s lap.

Caspian stopped me from walking forward by putting his arm across me, grazing my chest.

“Wait,” Caspian watched the pair, “We can intercept Doran up the maze if we hear him coming. Let’s let them talk. I think they need this time.”

“I do too,” I whispered back.

We stayed in the shadows of the hedges and watched the two of them.

Peter’s words floated on the gentle breeze over to us, “I’m sorry for pressuring you…” He put a finger under Morgan’s chin and lifted her gaze to his, “I want you to have your father by your side, and I’ll do whatever I can to preserve that.”

Morgan searched his gaze for a moment. Heart breaking and mending at the same time, “I want to be with you, Peter.”

His hand shifted to where he was cupping her cheek, slowly caressing it with his thumb, “I want you any way you’ll have me. As your lover, friend, or even just your errand boy.” A small smile pulled at the corners of Morgan’s mouth, “ I’ll always be here...no matter what you choose.”

Caspian watched the two of them with longing. Or maybe sadness. “Not many people have that,” He said, his voice sounding strained.

“Sometimes, fate keeps people apart. Even outside of their own will.” I murmured. Caspian turned and looked down at me.

“Yes,” His eyes searched my face lingering over my lips for such a brief moment I wasn’t sure if I had seen correctly, “Yes, it does.”

The chill seeped into our bones as we stood guard over the exit of the maze in case Doran came looking for Morgan, but time passed and no footsteps echoed over the cobblestone. Peter and Morgan parted at the creek with promises said so low neither of us could hear.

“C’mon. Let’s get back before they see us.” Caspian guided me back through the maze.

In those moments in the maze, I could see him clearly. Set apart from others, but lonely. A position on a pedestal comes with praise, but it’s so cold being up that high.

Caspian walked me right to my bedroom door as I stepped in, I held onto the door watching him.

Down the hall, peering, servant's eyes looked around the corner. The king, a man who should kneel before no one, folded into a bow, “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

My whole body froze. Caspian had given my title in introductions to members of the courts, delegates, and anyone he presented me to for politic’s sake, but since that day on the blood-soaked battlefields, I had only ever been called by name.

I would not be erased. Not by him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying your story with Caspian. Things are definitely heating up between the two of you! 
> 
> I figured I'd share a song that reminds me of Caspian and the reader/main character- Meet Me In The Woods-Lord Huron. This song has been on repeat while writing this chapter, and I just feel like it really fleshes out their story and relationship in its lyrics. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for continuing to read along!

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading, please drop a kudos or a comment! I’d greatly appreciate it. If you plan on continuing on, you can also bookmark if, so we can follow this path together. :)


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